Wrapped In Their Dirty Garb
Rolling and turning,
the swift waters moving, like a giant earthen serpent through the blanket of green..
It's course cutting,
twisting at the base of the ancient wall..
Above it all, a scene of free flight in stall..
Black dots pepper the sky,
wings stretched, yet motionless, upon the heated air..
Bodies rise up, poised for their falling..
Sunlight cuts through the pines like a whisper. .
In shadows that fall upon the ground, lay the feathery touch of gray green wonders..
Silence. . . .
That lost treasure of forgotten days
I embrace the canvas laid out before me..
It's perfection unnoticed by the masses, wrapped in their dirty garb....TAH
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