Wednesday, September 24, 2008

Sneaky Mid-Day Poetry

Wellington, Spring 2008
Come spring
vines, waking push
through from under
pink fingernails,
crescent mooned.
Moist loamy dirt
lies scattered on
the kitchen table,
tumbling down white
pillows each morning.
Seeds fall from pursed lips,
inconveniently
mid-rebuke.
Fuscia flowers bud
from ears, muting
the sound of all
other than the humming
of bumble bees flying
through open bedroom
windows.
All inhabitants here
walk under the weight
of a seasonal infestation
until the coming of
the Equinox brings
wind from the North,
blowing new foliage
back out to the
hillsides and
away.

1 comment:

Marshmallow said...

Beautiful :-)