|
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!
|
Old Trees I want
old trees--
gnarled fingers grasping
the wind, bony knees and
wizened toes digging in
amongst the wild flowers.
I want old trees--silvered
canopies shading
ancient stone fences.
I want old trees--shaggy barked,
knurl boughed: perfect
for an old rope swing
with bottom smoothed seat.
I want an old stone house
with a crooked chimney,
with lead-paned windows
that crank open and a cozy porch
with two old chairs for rocking away a summer eve.
I want to look out at ducks fishing
in an overgrown pond
as deer graze sweet grasses.
Then, should I be of a mind,
I can meander beneath
grandfather oaks
barefoot
on leafy carpets
and know
I am home.
|
© Copyright 2009 fyn (fyndorian at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved.
InkSpot.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
|
