Grant me rest under your lissome stems
Let me hide from the raindrops — shiny globules
That drip with tropical hauteur,
Rain that harms the ribs with cold rebukes.
Welcome me within your greenish lair, from
Your cane roots to your starry leaves —I insist on visiting
In your prime, so fresh with dew and so green, like
The envy in the gritty eyes of singed composts,
When waving rays of the shifting sun
Bathe the narrow venues formed by adjoining stems
Up, up and up the stairs and dome of the jungle.
I pray to shoot up with you and befriend the skies.
Oh, such elevation!
Fill my gourd with green wine;
Make me drunk with the spewing colours of life.
My heart is open to receive light —from misty dawn to
Dusk crowned with your blessing.
Let it rain on, I pray.
My palms are spread out like your leaves — I borrow the
Innocence of your frondescence.
Carve me flutes from your nodes, and, from them
Raise the cadences for summons, to be accompanied by
Drums fashioned by hands greased by the gifts of
The forests. . . .
Raise the joy, the frenzy, the tone of the ceremony
Raise, raise . . . upheave them
To royal heights — such as yours.
Enraptured by this treasure's home,
A plentitude of blooms unfold,
Rarest of blooms, a chromatic trance,
A garden's embrace, a wild romance,
With rare frondescence, delights unfurled,
I stand gazing amidst opulence at this glass-bound world,
Oh bottle garden, how my senses fail to describe such a masterpiece,
Enchanting souls, your charm isn't one to cease,
Grey skies, bare branch silhouettes
frondescence, dormant magic
within them.
Wing footed -winter arrives
brilliant with frost flowers
Rallentando- raindrops to snowflakes
Cobwebs motif into an ice lattice
Star thistles gleam with brittle echoes
and everywhere is quiet - white realms
A winter collage, brighter than starlight
Fills our heart with forest- flower dreams
Nature can exist without any sunlight.
The shadow is nurtured by the sustenance
sprouting from the soil in the Garden of Darkness and
from which grows the frondescence that nourishes our Fear.
The garden is dampened by the tears
of those whose shadow’s grip is strong and thriving
beneath the shade of the great ash trees.
Their roots and their branches connect the underworld
with the Gods of the earth, sky, and sea.
And the shadow exists between these planes
where it relies on the fruit fallen from the
Trees of Life and Knowledge that faithfully grow
in the Orchards of Loss
reminding us, with each passing season,
as, once again, the blossoms flourish among the cherry trees,
that immortality exists.
Morning glory withers to give way to impervious vines of insecurity
that wrap tightly around a wrought iron fence
behind which the Unknown fertilizes the seeds of Fear.
A bittersweet aroma rises from a flowerbed adorned with
Violets of Distrust and White Lilies of Lost Hope.
Their scent fills the Garden of Darkness
and reaches the senses of all that venture through.