Let Nature Speak

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Let Nature speak –

in syllables untypable,

nuances not uttered in

words so much as living

letters which etch life into the

living. Let Nature

write –  phrases

one breeze-breadth

long, one sunset soliloquy

wide, one pollen-laced

paragraph high.

She prints her poem

onto recycled papyrus,

onto hearts grown green –

who will read it to our

children? Who will

translate her manuscript

without editing out her soul?

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Dangling

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You let it all hang out,

nouns, idioms,

dangling participles,

taking a chance on

.

the conventions of language

to underscore your point.

Your openness spills ink

onto life’s crumpled

.

pages. Your transparency

builds a story line,

romantic innuendoes

of historical significance

.

which weave complexities,

nuances of tone and metaphor,

smudges of graphite

on lines yet un-penned.

 

 

 

Master Linguist

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Master Linguist, conjugate

A metaphor on Nature’s slate,

String Your Words like diadems,

Loose Your lexiconic gems.

Idioms, Creation’s cloak,

(Accents for the simpler folk)

Speak in volumes , tell in prose,

In every dialect disclose

The glory of Your Living Word.

Among the wonders I have heard,

I hear Your discourse in the breeze,

Syntax in the whispering leaves;

Alphabets in Milky Way,

Grammar at each breaking day.

Master Linguist, breathe in me

Words that shape my prosody.

Leaves of Life

metal leaves

As leaves of life are pages turned

each sunrise and each setting eve,

so Time requires accounting earned

of heart, and what heart has achieved;

what ink was etched in living light

upon those souls within arm’s reach;

what words with honey sweetened plight,

or actions wrote with keener speech?

*

What one thing can you do this day to make the world around you a better place?  We need to stand together against evil, or peace on earth will remain a distant dream…

Nightcap

Nightcap,

frothed with steamed milk,

dream-weaver of hushed dialogue;

foam ebullition, substance suspended,

bulbous discourse of ephemeral proportion.

Whisper sweet nothings into spurious

ears;  lend your lather, spume’s

spatter, contrive, spawn

Nightcap.

Branches Baring All

Calligraphic nibs

etch meaning in an empty sky,

fingernails scratching glass,

scribes recording ticks and tocks.

Abacus counting season’s syllables,

limbs leaking language

in a thousand tongues –

branches baring all.

Wordless Spring

Tender limes on spiny stems

Bravely push to journey’s end;

Seeking sun and  studious growth,

Learning how to balance both

As factories of sugar sweet

Begin to pulse in hands and feet.

Opening hearth for nests of birds,

You scream Spring, but use no words.

This is a miniature ‘Bird’s Nest Spruce’.  I somehow missed publishing this one this spring.  Now, with autumn’s approach, here is a quick peek back to the beginning of the growing season!