Windy
sighs sift through boughs,
swirl to soften willows,
lull fronds.
air purls as always,
trees as staves, the glade a stanza,
leaves as clefs.
the sky a vase
full of faint violins,
whispery with cadenzas.
the forest remembers
and rephrases arias all day,
fugacious
until crepuscular amethyst
and a coda
of moon.
========================
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment