D Minor swells: slivers of wind
scatter twigfuls of pear blossom
over dandelions and lush grass
under a baleful and sagging sky.
Apple blossom red buds wait.
Something spooks the birds, a prowl
of felines palpitates them, maybe.
Again and again their staccato alarms,
yet nothing manifests, only darks
of wind and sky, innocent of intent.
Raven's over, but blackbird carols
a snatch from tangled sticks of elder,
defiantly, even as she crosses us.
That wasn't it? Yet alarms resume.
Oh, something's out there in the wind.
..
YOU ARE READING
Bare Shouldered
Poesía"The difference of high Sensations with and without knowledge appears to me this - in the latter case we are falling continually ten thousand fathoms deep and being blown up again without wings and with all [the] horror of a bare shouldered Creature...
