Poem written 3/12/15

The air hanging over this sub-urban demense

is a sculpted stillness,

with all the ineluctable elegance

of an elaborate, porcelain vase.

Surveying a foreground of indistinct homes,

stretching in rows,

my sight is drawn by some strange magnetism

to an emanating horizon of evergreen trees

which in their stately mystique offer comfort

and stir great wonders within.

Libations pour forth from lips

as dark, distant boughs offer their own,

towards heaven,



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