The Days Come, Warmer
Time has ammassed the many aspects of me,
Which I then collect, design and tatt
Into delicate lace edgings for my aging, and which I then
Lay out into rings around the bases of tree trunks
To become splendor again, anew across the landscape
— with the fragrance of lilies — orange, yellow, purple —
Bursting their blooms through the darkened earth
Beside the already growing roses, asters, peonies and hostas —
To celebrate meeting a new season of warmth in the forest;
Awaiting evensong, to grace this day’s ending work and memories
With the birds flocking, circling, singing out overhead
From here to the horison’s moonrise.
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(c) sally young eslinger 5/12/2023
Categories:
edgings, blessing, celebration, flower, life,
Form: Free verse
My edgings they are shorn
and trails of truth are knife,
a country sad is born
with each new righteous height!
That definition's strife
encumbers with remorse
were joy the once delight
now singulates conform!
That hedging rules the storm
were once a solemn trite
so far above is from
that minister of fright!
I look for chances glean
a yesterday still rung,
the spirits only dream
the altar's of unsung!
Democracy perverts,
that once my vestige clung
and opposition flirts
but kindling with among!
How strong the arc becomes
that witnessed extrovert
and yet the method brung
extols to so subvert!
Through entities disserve
a marginal outcome
the profiteer's reserves
unlimit life's succumb!
Categories:
edgings, social
Form: Rhyme