Nature

i

I wish you could see
how the mushrooms poke
their white heads

through the cassopeia’s
browned sea of tears.

Do you think
it would make
for a comfy bed

to lay her down;

like these blankets
of creeping ivy

that weave
makeshift bird’s nests
in the spring?

ii

Do you
remember
that barn owl
whose face
appeared to me,

in many a fragment
from two or three dreams?

Not perched
on treetops
like how they do,

but stamped
in the grain of
that ornate cedar fringe?

iii

Why must trees point
a perpetual why
to the cloudless sky?

How do these
5 o’ clock shadows
haunt
already ponderous
footsteps,

and why do
mosses grow
in places
where the lights
won’t reach?

I want to know
everything,

but when
I open a door,

another one
takes its place –

iv

Opening a book
and closing yet another
won’t get you far,
my boy!

No use
being
that fig leaf
in tatters,

who sits
patiently
by the window-ledge,

waiting
for something
to happen…

© Zelda Reville


Nature, left wild to run and fly at its own pace. Like the planets that freely orbit in space…

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4 thoughts on “Nature

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