little flakes
of gold leaf
fall from the trees
drift
through the air
landing
face-up
in the deep blue
slow moving water
and wend their way
down river
to the sea
where they
wash up
on a waterworn
pebbled shore
to be slowly worked
into the softest golden dust
and carried aloft
on a shimmering zephyr
8 comments:
I'll be looking for them, Steven, when they arrive on this side of the pond on that shimmering zephyr.
hi lorenzo! a moment's insight into the cyclical nature of everything led me to write this one. stone, wood, body, water - everything. to know it and then suddenly to be inside that knowing..... steven
makes death sound positively beautiful, steven. lovely photos too!
Beautiful steven - a poem of the ancient elements.
And the colours are outstanding!
bonnie - i think that if you remove the physical emotional aspects from death that have more to do with the people around you than yourself, that the process of flying away could be a graceful transition. it has lots to do with the quality with which you live your life. steven
thankyou very much titus. steven
that was lovely steven.
So THAT'S what autumn is suppose to look like. :)
Today it's actually trying...but thanks for putting me in the right seasonal spirit.
Post a Comment