She held out a hand to me, and a shape shifter in the sunlight she was crafted of birch bark where the curious shadows dappled. Lay down in the long grass. I will show you how the rain bends it over--little caverns where the world is stretched by telescope. We can disappear into a sea of stems where the dew makes a damp moss pungent scent. It will be like floating on amber clouds, I said. And we will catch the tails of shooting stars (through lattice cracks) like fireflies cupped in our hands. Just a little... just a little softer to the left.
...like floating on amber clouds, Yum, what a beautiful image. I love star-gazing... My birthday is the 13th, so I'll be under the sky looking up. Perhaps graced by a few fireflies. Thanks, for all you offer.
This poem really reminded me of the tranquility and peace that can be sought in nature. Great feel to it.
Regal Queen Ann's Lace distant down a dew soaked meadow, unfurls a thousand and a thousand buds to the addicted tendrils of sun. And the daisy, the simplest petal of unsymettrical level and pastel tones they reach their shy heads from the taller flowers of the grass.
But does it seem that too often we use the guise of beauty and eloquence to disguise our deeper truths?