and scare apocalyptic?
of manipulative goals
ambiguous at best,
to line the wrong nests…
why do we need
guardians of greed
to tell us our home needs healing?
my admiration grows
for these performers of manuscripts inscrutable
at one glance.
etched into betrothed hearts’ faces,
their lifelong courtship
birthing spirits indefatigable,
in this girl’s humble opinion…
(I took this photo yesterday of my father. He still works as a landscaper, at 83! He helps to take care of this beautiful property for his friend, who died a couple of years ago. He helps to lovingly tend it for her children who currently live elsewhere.)
your whispering legacy haunted
those delightfully enchanted trees
they bashfully danced to the harmony’s spell
you cast on ebullient breeze.
gentle tread of your variegated spirit
autumned now with so much grace
I know you have moved on in silence
but our movement here follows your trace.
the impression of a loved one’s silhouette
caught tenderly in a still frame
is a clear photographic injustice
to the care that he takes in your name…