Trees
you are the earth's stole
draped about her shoulders
as drunk on moonshine
or sun-crazed
she points and pirouettes
through the void
her heart
filled to bursting
she wears you well
tucks you in here
demurely
drapes you there
seductively
but always with grace
with good taste
never out of fashion
and then
at night
the gilded chariots gone
the blue song stilled
the sea floor cleared
she
pulls you in tight
against the chill
against icy stars
falling about her
catching in you
making of you
No comments:
Post a Comment