Holding you on a september night
the sweet dead smell of everything unwinds.
heavy cherries drip from their branches
breathing branches bow under the sky
The sky bends over everything like a holy dome.
and then all the space between the stars fills up with light.
and the stars too swollen to sing
Hum down to me.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
I really like this, I have all these feelings of the night sky being some sort of beautiful Zen answer and this poem almost feels like me and you having a conversation about that.
Post a Comment