In a Field Long Forgotten

Concealed in a spring of honey dye on alder field, clipped wings and feet coupled, a broken appendage, never to exhibit its grace and charm that once was envied. Forgotten as the seasons pass it slowly shed its beauty, imposed by red, orange, brown rust. Roots, tendrils, leaves; nests obliged nature’s creatures, embedded in its coil, worn down its cracked and stain, leather seats. Emerald velvet moss concealing its frame, lulled by pleasing harmonies. Garment bent in the undergrowth. Orchard grass and wearing morning equally lay roads to diverge a wooded field hidden, away from travelers and unruly sun that never stops. Wind runs free through windows, mocking, nature's changing course. Seasons run evanescent, untrimmed that it's meant to stay concealed in a spring of honey dye on alder field long forgotten. 4/27/2018