Nature's Namaste
Posted: October 4th, 2011, 11:07 am
The days of the praying mantis are over,
and the night of the spring peeper is silent
but for toadstools growing in the soggy-bottomed earth...
crickets have taken their solos home
and the sky is bereft of bird-lust and bird-song,
damsel dragons with black-lace wings are lucid moments
of summer passed in flowers' parades when
spring turned the corner of a young blue-bottled sun,
thick as heat, asphalt-melted like pearls of dew in the pasture grass
where grasshoppers had their say and bees buzzed drunk and yellow-laden
with the joy of clovered-honey;
the nights are cool and autumn's silence carries through pines
whispering their old she-bear secrets;
leaves fall, as if the shivering starts with one and then
another, fat mahogany-hued squirrels argue about the state of
nuts in Ohio, all is well and the well is mirror-lake, red, gold, copper and pumpkin orange.
Dark arrowheads of clouds crowd the sky hanging low and cover a spirited-earth.
Freedom is a ride we take sometimes. It takes us through
passages of time; we meet the Buddha on the road and smile
our Buddha smiles. Cherub angels shoot us with swift arrows of love and Pegasus dreams he can fly.
and the night of the spring peeper is silent
but for toadstools growing in the soggy-bottomed earth...
crickets have taken their solos home
and the sky is bereft of bird-lust and bird-song,
damsel dragons with black-lace wings are lucid moments
of summer passed in flowers' parades when
spring turned the corner of a young blue-bottled sun,
thick as heat, asphalt-melted like pearls of dew in the pasture grass
where grasshoppers had their say and bees buzzed drunk and yellow-laden
with the joy of clovered-honey;
the nights are cool and autumn's silence carries through pines
whispering their old she-bear secrets;
leaves fall, as if the shivering starts with one and then
another, fat mahogany-hued squirrels argue about the state of
nuts in Ohio, all is well and the well is mirror-lake, red, gold, copper and pumpkin orange.
Dark arrowheads of clouds crowd the sky hanging low and cover a spirited-earth.
Freedom is a ride we take sometimes. It takes us through
passages of time; we meet the Buddha on the road and smile
our Buddha smiles. Cherub angels shoot us with swift arrows of love and Pegasus dreams he can fly.
