On silent trees, on hanging breeze,
On sun-shaped moments sharing these
A river’s rush cools dappled leaves,
Cast in a myriad dancing forms
Across the clouded azure bed
That nestles soft above my head
And holds no hint of summer’s storms
But keeps a silent peace instead :
Yet though the air is still
And crickets sing,
My thoughts turn back, and worse hours spring to mind …
And contemplation turns to fire each sting,
And whips my savaged soul to cringe,
Then shift its fling from such bleakness with a shrug:
‘Tis too terrible -
I find myself again, and mind the time,
And settle down to hear life’s rhyme and ring.
Sept. 00
Lying under the dappled leaves of a tree in summer, recollecting (momentarily) mistakes made in life, before returning back to the moment.
Here’s a nice poem I found on the internet
