And so we take our leave
of warmth...
And long, lazy days...
Frogs symphonic on the river...
With stars lighting our way...
back from the campfire,
I hear song
smell beer,
brush up against ghosts
men of dreams, who no longer remain
men of cheer. whose laughter sustains
These bridges of cliche's
traversing troubled waters...
Highend siestas
taken via hammocks
swung on a breeze...
that caresses every pore...
sighing against the hush of lost motion
The chorus of crickets
Is already in final stanza
Just as Hummingbirds fly south from here...
To the borderlands of moderation.
To the place of instinctual knowing...
Where time stands in
A still life pose
Hailing the gales of December
I gaze on the lingering summer
Still here. Motionless. Briefly.
Savoring this moment in time where Labor can rest easy
awaiting the next
Big change.
No comments:
Post a Comment