Matins

Standard

Times of transition
appeal to my sense of
transcendence.

In joyful morning
eastern gold flows
over our highest leaves.

The blue-jays shriek
as our cat prowls
the wet grass.

She does not care

that this is the edge of time.

But I can feel the sun’s fire
as I work in the yard

and hear the mockingbird
in our highest eves
calling to his love
in the cherry tree!

Soon the wind
again will rise
and another summer day
will coldly decline

as the western fires
wilt
to bluest steel, to
blackest silk.

(6/11/2011)

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s