Emptying into the larger river The brook
Summer arrives It doesn't exist A place for floating dandelion to collapse Try to take hold
Mostly scrabble Stone and gravel Harsh Gritty
Baked by rays Hot Shimmering Parched
Until the snows come again
In those darker years Midnight stories guided under winged shadows From rituals of the crevice in the under sky. To daylight above obstructed by Dense plumage headed for greener meadows.
When curious eyes land on Poe, Philosophy, and Algorithmic Theory A Raven synchronizes flight and flips over to a path of repetitions: One, to stir a cast of thoughts overhead in sparse, gray clouds Two, not having formed the right words from the pall at all.
Three, lounging on a verdant canopy Black-jeaned limbs tucked in Docs flies through Concepts, figures, and patterns until the mind starts doing aerobatics; Mind on matters at hand, thumbing through weathered pages Weaving through a course in number and lightning by calculations.
Thoughts free like the wind above trees and houses below the hills; Pleasant breezes would brush past tufts of hair Drifting along the edge of vibrant flush of blooms across the village until Series of then secret-coded language ended in loops and endloops.
Sequence of thrills performed into horizons When letting go felt natural, fewer commands or instructions When everything felt closer and far from home, it was different from Trips by planes and tickets to new destinations.
Never mind the ongoing navigation Those were old rituals of habit, and now shadows fly By the old tree shade above, tore an opening below the surface; Things that had not left those greener meadows in a long time.
#poem #poetry #freeverse