The chilly air tastes a little bitter,
spiced by the silver light of crescent moon
and blinking stars continually titter
this endless night in June.
Tag: landscape poetry
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Urban tree
Calligraphy of naked branches
against the urban avalanches
is crisp and clear, like the voices
of morning birds. There are no choices.
Breathe in the cold that stops your breath,
that fills your lungs – your shibboleth
and drown, happy, in the verse
of crystal clear universe. -
Look-see
Cherries soaking up the sun –
semi-transparent,
sumptuous,
filled with liquid sweetness…
Roses taking the light full-on –
harsh contrast between the petals,
drama concretised in colour…
A fly –
black hole in space,
consuming the light completely,
transforming it into boundless energy,
incessant buzzing.
A quiet afternoon
with time
to look and see. -
Rustic Song
Under the shield of ashes –
forgotten passions.
Ashes add to the peat,
feeding the wheat.
Wheat multiplies and thus
it’s feeding us.
People with decent rations
have time for passions.
Passions that burn in flashes
leave only ashes.
Under the shield of ashes –
forgotten passions…
