O, the Solitude
Standing at a quadrivial on a wooded road,
knowing that each led to a mystical, ethereal place,
the lushness of the forest inspirational and incredible,
I opt for a footpath leading to a shady grove.
Far from the clamorous, chaotic world ever beating,
and beneath a weeping willow tree I find my solitude,
O, how unbelievable the bird songs each a ligure, a gem,
the forest a harmonious moan echoing my aloneness.
I behold the scented flowers unfolding and unfurling,
the murmur of a meandering stream not that far away,
while filigree clouds drift above a dark green canopy,
and in my mind is held a reservoir of words.
Closing eyes, I listen, I listen, then take up my pen,
and I write, I write, I write the lazy, beautiful day away,
that I may offer you a fleeting, momentary pericope,
of my words this summer day . . .
__________________
July 9, 2013
Poetry/Narrative/O, The Solitude
Copyright Protected, ID 107-491-409-09
All Rights Reserved, 2013, Constance La France
Copyright © Constance La France | Year Posted 2013
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment