Words in the woods
* * *
Frail lashes from heavenly shrine
Slithering my rough peel -
As I tunnel the valley of many hued,
chasing limerence under day’s highlight.
Mellifluous lyrics transverse my ears
tickling its way pleasantly
to bell my spirit’s string -
A wave of warm wind and tiny petals
submerged with the gesture of cuckoo’s carols.
Raining grains, the lifeless dust
granting the harvesting sole, a ferry delight
where sunflowers giggle like the sun shine
and tendrils cloak my arid skin
as I leap to savor the juicy grapevines.
* * *
Tomorrow
I know what you want.
You want to hear about the birds in the trees
the first grass in the spring
the way deer pick their way over a quiet stream.
An illusion.
Something to comfort a breaking heart.
It's easy to ignore the way these birds scream.
They stopped singing a long time ago.
They just mourn now, flitting from branch to branch.
It's easy to ignore the way the grass pushes aside its dead brothers as the snow melts, pressing a soft head skyward, knowing it will die in the first frost of spring.
And those deer?
Has it never ocurred to you that fear is what keeps them quiet?
That they can feel its vice-like grip always clutching at their throats.
It croons to them with a voice like wind rushing through the trees.
"Don't make a noise and you may live to see tomorow."
...They so rarely see tomorrow.
The Tree of Life
The tree of life's full of all kinds of life,
Someone carved love on its trunk with a knife,
It's full of love, happiness and life.
It makes all life appear,
Even a small deer,
Is happy and has no fear.
It makes lady bugs appear including a fly,
Flowers, and other plants and a butterfly,
Even a rabbit and a mouse appear along with a dragonfly.