The darkness given off
by the shadows on the hills
calls the heart into a collusion
with wonder and suspicion.
Do they portend something
more than the beauty they
cast across the surface of the
earth and precincts of the eyes.
When do we read more into
what we behold; and, when
is that the way to go. For now
I’ll stop at grandeur not at omen.
And the river flows on by,
unaware of any hint of dilemma.
Grandeur, not omen.
No comments:
Post a Comment