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lotusPoems
My arms I wrap Around my knees And rest my chin Atop them The hood of my cotton coat Keeps my braided hair dry While it soaks up the Cloud’s tears A patch of African violets Grow before my feet Their small patch Gowned with dew The intense purple of the violet It is deep Grounding And proud It does not resemble a shy flower Such as the sun daises that Close their petals at night Its color voice Speaks outgoing adventure And seeking mystery The irises of my green eyes Seem to make contact With each violet’s center Its face My eye’s irises The violets hidden eyes We both count Count the silent tick of the dark night Swallowing all the shadows of tree and stone Night’s clock ticking So many branches The patient drip drip sound Of dew from the tips of the green The torn departure of frost Bitten leaves from their branch strongholds The silent cackling of the demon’s moon The slow formation Of the stars overhead Moving together to form their ancient constellations All these things Among a thousand others Some unseen Some unspoken Some not yet known Form nature’s circular Clock of time nonexistent
0
Dec 18, 2012
Dec 18, 2012 at 11:44 PM UTC
Nature's Clock
My arms I wrap Around my knees And rest my chin Atop them The hood of my cotton coat Keeps my braided hair dry While it soaks up the Cloud’s tears A patch of African violets Grow before my feet Their small patch Gowned with dew The intense purple of the violet It is deep Grounding And proud It does not resemble a shy flower Such as the sun daises that Close their petals at night Its color voice Speaks outgoing adventure And seeking mystery The irises of my green eyes Seem to make contact With each violet’s center Its face My eye’s irises The violets hidden eyes We both count Count the silent tick of the dark night Swallowing all the shadows of tree and stone Night’s clock ticking So many branches The patient drip drip sound Of dew from the tips of the green The torn departure of frost Bitten leaves from their branch strongholds The silent cackling of the demon’s moon The slow formation Of the stars overhead Moving together to form their ancient constellations All these things Among a thousand others Some unseen Some unspoken Some not yet known Form nature’s circular Clock of time nonexistent
lotus
Written by
lotus
28/F
Dec 18, 2012
Dec 18, 2012 at 11:44 PM UTC
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