Wednesday, November 23, 2011

Cotton Ball Sky...

Colors cascading from the clouds,
lit from below by the rising sun,
shower down upon autumn leaves
fluttering and jostling one another,
each hoping to be the last to fall...
The cool mornings have turn chilled
a sharpness to the air, crisp and fragrant,
cold begins to cling to Mother Earth
as she prepares to lay quiet and still 
for another season, lying asleep in a mound
marked by a cairn on a hill
to be found by one whose feet feel the ground
with his head in the clouds as he hears the sounds
of those who went before without knowing anymore than he
If this can be, then what are other posibilities...
how many more sunrises and sunsets
have yet to fill me with wonder
as i continue with my daily blunders?
How does one get out from under a spell  cast 
whose curse is in the enchantment,
the enhancement of the senses
and yet not knowing when or how to control  it
Voices call, i can only listen
and echo cries made since Time Immemorial
and so this story goes
with other equations and variables,
wonders sublime and monsters terrible
that all make up this one life...
10-17-10

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