Monday, March 16, 2015

WADING THROUGH POPPIES



                                     Together






    

  we have waded









through fire,



            
the heatless


















altering 










slightly










and each hour







               of the season,






the hues of
goldfields,







lupine



                              baby blue eyes,






















mingling with these







                                                   poppies






that burn







               time away,





so that an instant





or an age







is of no importance,






and moving










             we are like them,





quietly--






burning quietly.



No comments:

Post a Comment