Moss like a line of arrowheads
on the top of wedge-shaped
paling of the fence
starlings swinging on the rope
hung from the tree pecking
at the fat tied to it for blue tits
gulled up against the sky
riding an invisible roller coaster
a blue and white train rocks
past singing at the top of the oak
are shaking, trying to get free
(that is, the wind) less stiffly
at the seashore with smooth
sand dark grey sky
and a wind combing everything
its enough to get back
to the source, if I died now
I would be content.
3 replies on “Contentment For Moss”
i’m all over this like a clinging emotion…beautiful!
Love to you,
mei
I often imagine the best that nature has for us, a tranquil garden, a dazzling display of birds in flight. They roars with our spirit. X
beautiful as ever, Lee!
groetjes, Francina