Feels the death
as it comes into focus
all colors of fire
the trees pretend to die
burning
Winter coming all ice and gray
the black standing trunks
gathering in the forest
the white cloud cover
glowering
Pull it in
the blue of all waters
gather it together in a bucket of starlight
the snow carrying galaxies
unknown
Many seasons in us all
a different kind of sight is memory
so the future forms
catch a glimpse of yourself
feel it on your face
What you saw in the benevolent eye
only reflection of a future memory
pull time into it's line now
give it a shimmy
the day sets glowing on the moors
About the Creator
susan marie loehe
everything is Art, Art is Everything.
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The Lesions of Devotion
Every day I set myself down on the freshly cut lawn and strip myself bare. I take my guitar and finger the frets and pick at the strings, listening for dissonance. My life is dissonance. I twist the tuning pegs until each string sounds bright. Then I kneel, calves pointing behind me, kneecaps facing forward. All exposed to the breeze. I close my eyes and play the melody.
By Paul Stewart5 days ago in Fiction
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