Muse |
Muse |
Still today, We watch the sun frame Summer time in the countryside, A garden green, shining in shades. Birds launch from tree tops, Parting leaves like parting lips, Suddenly, stretching out into flight. Faint songs trip over the garden and Unfold as echoes in our ears. Ochre-burnt bees see their prizes on stalks And hum their victory tune. Cabbage Whites flutter by In a flurry of their own snowy brilliance. Whether change is with a breeze, The scene remains unmoved; tranquil But for the inevitable wave, a vibration of life, Just as the fingers of an outstretched hand Unintentionally undulate, And as the tongue swims even in silence. The hush amongst leaves and branches Blows over and around the edges, Hardly noticeable, like a breath, Taken regularly but without interrupting the quiet. A clouded form of an eagle flies, Wings embracing the clear sky. The occasional bird soars in greeting, Their wings skipping like a light heart, Carrying them through and away again. Then, as if in blissful joy, the sun eclipses the scene, And our eyes are smiling peace. Originally written August 2016, age 20
0 Comments
|
AuthorSamantha is a doctoral researcher researching the power of figurative language in advertising, social media, and mobile technology. Copyright © 2022
Categories
All
Archives
June 2022
|