Friday, January 2, 2009

A Garden Sings of Lost Lovers

Light leaves the caps
as it leapfrogs spray
over spray while below all
all colour speaks of murk
descends so wisely cloaked

so brief with dew
spirals a moment
attends to something crying
something that is dying
quiver quick to blemish

reveal of drop - there
balanced on the flat leaf
- in the garden ghost chairs
haunt cruel autumns
tines quick to choke

sew white -
his lilies O where?

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