Riding Down the Bridle's Path
The forest's hill is high,
not rocky,infertile or steep;
colorful and fragrant flowers
adorn its grassy slopes without gleam,
breathing among the fallen trees
as the ravens scrutinize and sigh...
My warm forehead is sticky,
and ready to drip sweat;
it's almost the end
of July as I observe
a brisk,yellow canary
seeping the pond's misty
and stagnant water laying beneath
the huge branches of a white oak...
Some raindrops hit my uncovered head,
I look up the the hazy sky
for sure signs of unpleasant weather
to end the unaccomplished task
of exploring nature in all its wonders
and strange mischievousness;
but despite the sensed danger,
I continue this very short jeourney...
Oftentimes I have ridden down
this bridle's path,where alone,
I have wittnessed changes in scenery:
gliding green tree-tops invaded by sunlight,
so brilliantly enticed by mistery,
and visible from the blazing sky...
My curious glance extends to the very end
of the stupendous and dense forest
to capture the shining rays of light, at noon,
penetrating deep through patches of blue;
and unlikely the trails of falling stars that
hold our breath in inspiring awe and fade,
they awaken a sense of wonderment
and admiration for such an enlightenment...
Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2006
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