Wild Fern

Wild fern, unflowerable, rugged with roots
In my country you ride a hard wind
in a fragile darkness of greenery
looking small before the sun
You seem so lonely here
Softness and shade, your hideaway,
your seasonal view of things
Now Winter has begun, and the two of us
hover near bluehearted springs
lightheaded with the fantasy snow brings
My eyes, my mouth, my throat lift
to catch the clear crystalline promises
of the first snow, before slush
disillusions the beauty with brevity
You have a preference for the rain,
and for the sun gently edging
through the broad oak to find you
You lift a hundred lush arms in answer
I still settle for that one, unique pattern
of white perfection, lingering only a moment
from melting

Reviews

[Ed Hart]

tuned perfectly...it's a pleasure to read your singing

[sirenribbon@thehptshirt..]

Ferns are a mystical subject. I love the weather dance, you reflect on. It's cool how you keep the ferns noble while touching on a few other subjects.. Pleasant read. Cheers:))

[Emily B]

oh, oh, too beautiful

perfect words for today

[Phibby Venable]

thank you my friend! i feel sorry for the ferns...