skip to main |
skip to sidebar
Sunday Morning
By dawn, the wind had fled, the Canada geese
had returned to the wetlands. Shapes of Light seeped through my eyes and
took their places, pearls of tulip and narcissus. No crisis to be
averted in the tangled plum. No burden of knowledge demanding a
question. Only the textured stillness of melting shadows, and the green
unfolding Now that we call time. The world does not need our ideas. It
needs our amazement.
0 comments:
Post a Comment