Thursday, July 2, 2009

Self Editing

Wild now with the growth from spring rain
the back of the garden catches me
with tendrils of this and that
and abundant flying things do buzz and reply
to the fragrant jasmine and fruit trees nearby

I go through the door of air to a chair
with open book seated and unread
I shed my color and loosen the draft of air
and see myself with kind eyes

Blooming and tall like the roses
in need of nip tuck and direction
no hedge I keep for I am this wild way beguiled
for the path I take is like a child in pony's trot

Within the room of me
I open all the doors and windows
and there unlocked my song set free
that has found its way by light into me

Past the monsters hiding in the copse it strums
into the opening glen
to find each minute just begun

No comments:

Post a Comment