Don't you just
love days
that flower
full of song
and lack regret?
The ones where
you awaken,
as if
still dreaming,
inexplicably
delighted?
You stay
still,
hold your
breath,
listen
hard before
you ease
like Sol into
the shining sky.
No words
can portray
days like these,
none adequately
explain
the gift
of them,
a present you
construe
ephemeral.
Wonder
how to
transform
into something
permanent.
Know
the folly of
trying to
objectify
or water
flowers unreal;
the wilting
of dreams
other
than lovely.
This is my favorite section:
ReplyDelete"Know
the folly of
trying to
objectify
or water
flowers unreal"
Lovely description of those rare mornings that come as a gift from the Universe. Your imagery is as fluid as the experience itself. Thanks for the visit,
DeleteElizabeth
Yes - and you have described them perfectly..if only they happened more often..but if they did would they feel as magical..hmmm
ReplyDeleteYes! Although, to transform them into something permanent could knock the magic out of them. Rare and shining, I love the days you've described, 'that flower full of song.'
ReplyDeleteI love the underlying optimism, and the description of a sense of wonder and delight being evoked. Also the final warning against nourishing things which need to be left to wilt.
ReplyDeleteGreat thoughts indeed, and warm greetings!
ReplyDelete