Friday is covered in mud
Saturday has thunderbreath
lightning is in the eyes of Sunday
time gets trampled just right
like a geisha on a tourist's back
the paths are soaked in flamboyant flora
the creatures scamper like children playing
wet fur lashes dripping fronds
ferns thick as thieving pickpockets
my boots are the soundtrack's bass
the squirrel and deer are rhythm players
the birds are tremolo and twang
my orchestra breathes deeply
my worries get snagged, torn
by sticker bushes, waiting briars
tension jumps into the river basin
peace comes in reverence....
and raindrops
the path
Re: the path
as a poem -
not discounting what the words are doing -
this is a movie made by a musician
not discounting what the words are doing -
this is a movie made by a musician
Re: the path
thanx a lot Terri....appreciate the feedback... ![Cool 8)](./images/smilies/icon_cool.gif)
![Cool 8)](./images/smilies/icon_cool.gif)
If you do not change your direction
you may end up where you are heading
you may end up where you are heading
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