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Showing posts from September, 2014

Poetry from the Park

This world is a trap With its trees, pensions, streaming media and divisions Each label is designed, formed, created To drive a wedge between us and our goal - a distraction from the real... A robin flies out - so small, colourful - alive Watches from a stick with black eyes and flies from the sleepwalkers who shamble by. Your eyes can be bright too, alert - the trap is open. -------- When you look at the ground beneath the tree So many leaves. It's hard to imagine how they all fit on the branches; But trees do that, they grow their leaves to grow more leaves to supercede last year's growth and this year's crop casting shade upon what got them there. Finally they drop giving one more use as the sun shines lower in the sky, casting shade longer across fallen leaves.

Equinox Thoughts

Mist rises flowing, floating across the lake pushing ducks and geese ahead of it. The trees drink low, Darkness welling beneath them as the sun eventually rises lower later. Cold sinks and the warmth is missed.