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About This Author
A changeling spirit,
constantly evolving,
revolving around an inner core,
spinning forth legend and lore,
stories and lives
as I come to grips
with who and what I am,
have been and may be.
I am a phoenix:
rising ever above and beyond!
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Icicles on Trees Icicles on Trees
Listen.
Hear the dandelion huff
Its fluff
Into a Summer breeze.
Hear asparagus twang
Its stalk into the picker’s hands
Or the crystal shards singing
As Winter’s prisms collide.
Did you miss the moody boil
When the smog plowed through the pines?
Or had you heard enough?
Listen.
Hear the nebulai keen
their sheen;
in starlit symphony.
The moon, its phases waxed,
dusting Autumn’s fall.
The silent swish of silvered fish,
The look that volumes speak,
Are you hearing what I mean?
Listen.
Hear eyeful hope on knees
Flood the floor as it flees.
A single tear,
A feather fal-
Ter before flittering
Near maple-d helos
As new shoots of green explode in Spring.
Can you hear the space between
two heartbeats?
Lifeblood pulsing into the void--
Silenced forever from falling
Icicles on trees?
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© Copyright 2008 Fyn (fyndorian at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved.
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