On earth,
Brass bells
Hang from
Umbrella branches.
Everything has its birth.
Rounding dawn
Dreams back its
Billion years.
Old red stars in our
Cosmic spine
Barely displace darkness
Now, persist in
Garden roses.
What disappears in
Light, shadow exposes--
From antiquity,
Remotest night,
In wind where
Little bells emit
A melody to
What is still
Suspended there.
Mmm. Lovely. A garden truly inspires restful but profound insights.
ReplyDeleteOh my goodness. This was so intense. I actually felt moved by your poem.
ReplyDeleteA wonderful bit of writing with starlight. I'm really struck by the lines- "Rounding dawn
ReplyDeleteDreams back its
Billion years."
Dear Geo., "What disappears in
ReplyDeleteLight, shadow exposes--" - that is great. Sometimes we have to take a bit of colour out of a picture, then form is more perceptible, though mellowed in its contours. And dark has many colours too - barely displaced, but there.
Everything has its birth. Everything has a beginning. Beautifully written as always, Geo.
ReplyDelete