Poems ✍️

Liquid stone feels smooth an' cool 'neath an August sunrise,
breezes flutter leaves, dry the shackles of morning's dew-

taxing the weakest of the newborn verdure like ice on branch,
descries a blistering Summer day approaching; No shelter here;

just the quiet of arched granite sealing off it's aged cracks,
until the afternoon scorch of the skies flaming circinate burns-

the rugged sod, uneven, from its multitude... of penetrations,
patches course and brown; the August month lends Death no mercy,

until the late of the afternoon passes torch to welcome twilight-
cast it's majique pour of hues into rows of arched silhouettes.

All this I've seen in observance of nature and God's Will Be Done,
on a hill of a field where a breath of air be Life's only sign.



FjR-MMXXIX