Wandering questions before a wooded labyrinth Whisper, asking for a grand theory A cannon filled with run on unpunctuated sentences And questions unanswerable, Heard as whispers in the wind, barely audible! For the life of me I couldn’t tell you who said what or what they said. But that’s the sounds of trees for you:
Tag: poems about time
There’s no time to waste on those who demand plans written in pen — It was one thing when I had a calendar without end.
Somewhere even here – a shelter, a safe haven embraces the “we,” the self corrected and wall-taught flowers, who grow and peek over the garden fence. (Who did we think we were, anyway?) If we like what we see, we tilt up towards the dim sun, and grow taller than our environs to open up