Blinded by the scintillating sun
I closed my eyes
and the warm round world
swirled around me.
There was no night or morning
yet that is all there was;
the seasons passing swift
in constant blur.
A russet deer, a fox, a bear;
the leaves are changing
into words, not fragmented phrases
but soliloquies.
The purple grapes
are ready to make wine.
They spill their claret blood
like pens on a mission.
That pause for breath
when sunset fills the sky,
That is the closest
man will ever come to truth.
I love the imagery and the language of the poem. I disagree philosophically, but the poem is beautifully composed!
Thanks, Wes,
You are much appreciated!!
Sarah
beautiful poem, Sarah.
groetjes, Francina
My thanks, Francina
Sarah
So beautifully expressed, Sarah … warmed and moved me. Blessings for the New Year and far beyond! Diane
D,
Thank you!
Your support of my work
energizes and inspires!!
Sarah