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
Somber red apple branches
sagging down into green orchard grass
lumpy loaded with solid ripe ready fruit
Watching pale yellow butterflies huddle down
then spray up and out a geyser of light vibrant flight
scattering and skipping above their sun-drenched forest
A green sea of windy winding rivers
shadowed by red mounted trees of deep-rooted life,
making sweet love with flighty buttered wings
sweeping and beating co-gravitating gratitude.
Red Team too old and wizened
to count their darkening days as numbered.
Yellow Team too light and funny flight
to bother commodifying frenzied beating wings of day.
Separate huddles,
yet a coherently co-arising Team
of Earth's diverse space tracing times
We decided one day to explore an unknown
Outside weeded playgrounds we'd outgrown
Wearing shorts, no shoes, shirts of cotton
We ventured forward to childhood forgotten
We babbled along by the brook. We hurried
Through orchard grass, running past herds
True abandon. We found God's saving graces
Uttered ours, ate apples, washed our faces
Laying under the spreading evergreen tree
With just smiles, for a while we were free
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