I drive the dusty gray
past leaning fence post, uncut hay;
Birdsun layers and a sunning-greet
send their iridescent call
to unsweater self-hate and loss's grief.
Crickets chirp "No more pity--
Take a look at what IS pretty!
Immerse yourself in nature bath.
Forget your mind and past mistakes.
Float them through the air;
It doesn't matter, brain right or left
Or, if it's been out to lunch somewhere."
Convolutions, only gray matter,
Simple dust on gray gravel
(P.s) Jo, spelling error free; any misspellings are purposeful. Much appreciated my big sis through the tough ones...) Whoops! I just found a typo-birdsun layers was originally intended as birdsung, but it's not a bad mistake. I'll keep it.)
[This message has been edited by Sadelite (06-10-2004 11:40 AM).]