The crescent moon
waxing behind clouds.
The ice,
thin crystals separating
pond sludge from air.
One leaf clings to the branch
flutters
and lets fly.
Away, away
tumbling across the crust of snow.
So fragile
ephemeral
like the ephemera you collect
that part of you
sensitive, artistic
hidden behind rules and regulations,
tightness and fear.
Now, a scrim forms between you
and what you might become
inviting surprises
inviting a different path than envisioned.
What do you see? What do you see?
wow,
ReplyDeleteThe crescent moon
waxing behind clouds.
The ice,
thin crystals separating
pond sludge from air....
love the opening lines,
your poetry is divine!