Fly as lightening flash before me; deep into the marrow of some bone and another day.
Blue like streams before me; streaked and diving to each new thing.
Will this be the death of me, or will my heart ring another new tone; a brand new chime with the morning?
Blue light streams before me; streaking silver on the dawn of this red sky morning.
Sailing, life alert to this ever-wood clearing; under-brush still brambled in my mind though. . .
and I'm hearing all the cool breezes in my open ears.
I'm glad I changed this one around at the reading for the arts opening. . . I still don't like that last line much though it seems tacked on (it's not, but it sounds awkward to me still)
Posted by: kasey | Apr 27, 2006 at 06:48 PM
I was going to call this "an ode to spring" but I don't really know what an ode is, much less how to formally write one.
Posted by: kasey | Apr 11, 2006 at 03:40 PM