the crashing of aspen leaves
the cool wind of a september evening
left us turning to receive
the crashing of aspen leaves,
hitting green blue grasses--
left us turning to receive
the crashing of aspen leaves,
hitting green blue grasses--
how the leaves became thick ocre thread,
weaving unity between all souls, not dead
the relaxed green fronds-- sacred
lawn of autumn:
a field day for larks, sparrows, chickadees
with the punctuation of birdsong, followed
by a certain grave silence--
a somber soliloquy
occasional dandelions pop up, neither
asking to own the spotlight-- or to be
overly reticent...
.
among baby flowers parading
as bright as yellow can blare--
as loquacious as a cloud may dare
smelling like turpentine
whisked over bonfires,
its red and orange glare
weaving unity between all souls, not dead
the relaxed green fronds-- sacred
lawn of autumn:
a field day for larks, sparrows, chickadees
with the punctuation of birdsong, followed
by a certain grave silence--
a somber soliloquy
occasional dandelions pop up, neither
asking to own the spotlight-- or to be
overly reticent...
.
among baby flowers parading
as bright as yellow can blare--
as loquacious as a cloud may dare
smelling like turpentine
whisked over bonfires,
its red and orange glare
 |
| words/photo~kate lamberg (c) '15 |
Comments
Post a Comment