Thoughts
Writing on
thoughts,
that have past
in the mind,
surrounded by the energy
of the green and serene,
ideas wander across the page
and scamper
down the sides.
Trees bend lathargicly
downward
to arange them
in some sort of order.
Shuffling through dried leaves
and snatching them up,
like knarled old hands,
the little oaks
corral the ideas.
Then the older trees
scoop them up,
tossing them in the air
and offer them to the wind.
Copyright © Mark Matthews | Year Posted 2007
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