the breeze is painted
with a remembered canopy
of honeysuckle and lilac -
a sistene chapel invisible to the eye
known only by its delicate breath
whispering its name
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Flower and Song: the flowers - the gifts we receive; the songs - our offerings we leave behind. These are my public markings of both, offered in gratitude.
About Me
- el poquito
- Barn's burnt down / now I can see / the moon. ~ Masahide samurai-poet (1657-1723)
2 comments:
You must have gotten the same breeze in Michigan yesterday that we got in the St. Louis area. So sweet. So sweet. My mother could not wipe the smile off her face as she puttered in the yard.
ah edwaar: your spring journey is not taken alone..i wear the yellow in honor of your journey. i cut off my hair in honor of your journey. i pray for our journey together. gert
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