Sun
King morning
in
the misty waded reeds
and
slung rock mosses
the
spill insistence of water
at
the edge
of
dew heavy grasses
tangles
me in white noise
unravels
me
from
the moorings of night
and
those lands
West
of Nod
and
East of Eden
the
dug cold
of
this day’s
early
embrace
invokes
the fires
of
Autumn
and
those dryad fantasies
of
rustling leaves
under
the sweet burn
scent
of things
bleeding
back to the Oaks
early
vesper
church
bells
are
ringing in
the
distance
as
I squint
while
walking
into
the icy crowns
between
me
and
the sky hiding
Venus
after the Dawn
like
a map of dreams
scrolling
back
into
the blue bunting
of
pocketed things
that
don’t weigh
so
much on me
I
carry my heart
and
soul to a rise
where
the Moon
can
find me
EJR
©
You have created a morning that no one could turn away from....simply and beautifully wonderful x
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