Conifer-covered hillside
in the hinterlands
of this sleepy town
on a warm day
in this mid-June
The unspoilt soil
neither grieves
nor revels
and there's no revelation in that-
just what you see.
It's just what you see.
The quivering quakeys
can't hack it even when they cackle-
an attempt to unravel the shackles of
their incomplete alchemy-
cause it's never enough
one laugh is never enough.
The high's always flanked
by a sunrise so rank
as to wrinkle the brows
of the loudest and proudest-
the laughers and criers, or livers and die-rs
Just give me the bliss of the birds
and a big lidless urn to retire my fire
when the work week expires
when I finally can see even truth holds some lies
and when the sun sets too low to appraise the horizon,
I'll fly.
I'll just fly.
Jun 22, 2016
Jun 22, 2016 at 10:42 PM UTC
Conifer-covered hillside
in the hinterlands
of this sleepy town
on a warm day
in this mid-June
The unspoilt soil
neither grieves
nor revels
and there's no revelation in that-
just what you see.
It's just what you see.
The quivering quakeys
can't hack it even when they cackle-
an attempt to unravel the shackles of
their incomplete alchemy-
cause it's never enough
one laugh is never enough.
The high's always flanked
by a sunrise so rank
as to wrinkle the brows
of the loudest and proudest-
the laughers and criers, or livers and die-rs
Just give me the bliss of the birds
and a big lidless urn to retire my fire
when the work week expires
when I finally can see even truth holds some lies
and when the sun sets too low to appraise the horizon,
I'll fly.
I'll just fly.
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