Fruit falls from the Poet Tree
Sometimes fast, sometimes slow.
A hushed descent, silent to all.
But you –
You hammer and shape them
On their autumnal fiery fall.
Climaxed they come to rest
Pealing their final perfect sounds,
A laugh,
A cry,
An inner sigh
For finally
All can hear.
© 2023 Raymond K Olson
Carry on waging war.Carrion’s all you train for.A price is paid.When young are laidUnderground,Who have not found,Nor ever will,A life fulfilled.And...
Earth quaking trees sprinkled their pollen,
Powder puffing the forest floor.
A plume of golden mist rose up from its lush green lineage.
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