April 12, 2017

the dutchman's britches ......................................................... NaPoWriMo2017 #12





and then 
there were  
these riches 
we found 
breech in ...

under early gloaming light 
the Hazel was staved, waved 
bare armed still and trembling 
ol' sentinel Winter tired 
a-ready to burst to green ...

fae were playing 
wrung weightless 
in ways gold powder 
stays a bitten 
o'er mossy teeth 
pulled to water 
here again we sing, tongues 
on old songs, ancient throngs 
pollen-note deepening 
bellow rhythms frogs make 
buzzards murmuring, roosted above 
in the pines behind 
beyond the beg of light 
bats dive and sway, all, are 
eating approaching night 
and right then 
in that very moment 
there wasn't a thing 
we needed to know 
as April warmed 
turning towards 
Beltane ...

EJR ©

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