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The Flow


Nearly monochromic
I ride the colors
of the garden,
lightly through the ease
of being,

the sheet metal roof
of the southern porch clicking
and crackling
with the shifting temperatures
under cloud shadows and sunlight;
the tiny stream into the pond
rippling softly;
swallows well past their breeding season
leaving minuscule sounds on the sky,
like ink blots on a notebook page;
the soft wind pleasantly stirring
the leaves of the birches
and the weeping willow we planted
on Grip's grave two years ago

Inside me – hard to distinguish
from the outside – I hear the voices
of loved ones; dead and alive,
in a mixed choir of benevolence

I know nothing lasts,
but I'm part of it;
I'm the Earth and the Heavens,
and the flow of the elements




Fri vers (Fri form) av Ingvar Loco Nordin VIP
Läst 15 gånger och applåderad av 2 personer
Publicerad 2020-08-12 14:40



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