One by one the crimson robes
and golden crowns are pixilating into
slow showers, some softly turning,
twisting in brief suspension
then gracefully pivoting onto grass
and hedge, the hopes and dreams of trees
offering. Spring growth, summer
gathering delivered to the heart
of wood. Faithful workers at day’s end
settle in to nourish grass. We rustle/kick
them into dance, smell the
honest smell of sky meeting earth.
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Carol Casey lives in Blyth, Ontario, Canada. Her work has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and has appeared in The Prairie Journal,The Anti-Langourous Project, Please See Me, Front Porch Review, Cypress, Vita Brevis, Blue Unicorn and others, including a number of anthologies, most recently, We Are One: Poems From the Pandemic and the TL;DR Hope Anthology.
Latest posts by Carol Casey (see all)
- Maple Leaves in Fall - 7th October 2022