our southern valley
shortly after the death of winter
is announced in the sky...
down and dirty it rolls
through the trees and brushes
through the wild grasses.
around the stumps
remaining from the fall,
laying of the surface of the pond
for all the fish to see...
a gentle hand reaches down into
the murky waters to retrieve
older turtles who have gone
color blind before their time,
and a baby soul sits on a blanket
made from reeds the old
fashion way... its mother lives
with the wolves of the forest
that guard the valley from
northern trespassers... taking a
dim view of those who arrive
without proper invitation.
16 March 2023
No comments:
Post a Comment