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Lilac hush
earth, half-waking,
baroque birdsong.

Moss curls ,
dew beads on nettle’s tongue
small, glassy prayers.

wind
silk-handed seamstress
stitches light into every leaf,
veiling the world
breath and bloom.

Bones of old trees cradle the sun’s milk,
wildflowers nestle in their ribs
what dies here, lives softer.

river, translucent and slow,
spills silver veins , the skin of the valley
a quiet pulse beneath the green.

Somewhere between sky and soil,
we become the silence
lungs folding into pollen-laden air,
fingertips brushing the hem of forever.

Nothing belongs.
Nothing is apart.

In the meantime,
the world remakes itself
petal by petal, wing by wing
and we, fragile passengers,
are simply learning how to listen.

I went for a walk today
in search of poetry.

A little inspiration
in something I might see.

It wasn't a particularly beautiful day, 
Cloudy and a bit cold.

But from time to time 
the clouds would part, 
and wash the world in gold.

It wasn't quite mesmerizing 
still no poetry came to me.

So I decided to take a load off,
and parked myself beneath a tree.

I just sat there for a while, 
to see what I could see.

And what struck me most 
was that there was no one,
not a soul around but me.

Well, that's not exactly true.

There were a couple birds up in this tree,
but they were busy doing bird things,
not at all concerned with me.

And a squirrel up on a power line, 
also without a care,
as far as I could see.

And in that very moment 
a poem came to me.

But I did not write it down,
I just enjoyed my time under that tree.

I'll save the poem for later,
because I'm living the poetry.
The world is a big beautiful place if we take a moment to unplug,
unwind, and just allow our minds to take a break for a little while.
checkout the video for this on my you tube channel

www.youtube.com/@tsummerspoetry
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