Angeline, it must be said
that tomorrow brings peril
in equal measure with joy.
And pleasure is a second choice
that falls to those whose voices
raised and heard
are ever taken at their word - but
word alone is never deed;
compounded then with heavens' scent.
A nectar fostered of a gardener.
A petal blossomed, ever bent, before the cold practioner
of words and deeds and seeds and loam -
there grazes a single antelope on grasses set
in prairies before all time, and spent.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment