Nature’s plethora in Renaissance
the sequoia in silhouette
of the nightingale’s trembling throat
when the wind moves like a sculptor
through the cathedral of pines—
O, what green alchemy
in the turning leaf,
what gold distilled
from the slow decay
of empires—
And the sequoia,
black against the dawn,
is only the beginning
of the sentence
the world keeps whispering
but never finishes—
So say the gospels
of rain, the psalms of moss,
the hymnals of beetles boring
through the bark like monks
illuminating scripture—
I have to say, nature is one of the most primeval beauties I know. Words follow close behind. This one fused both flawlessly
Thank you, Willow. Once nature is gone, there is nothing.
Dear AA,
Beautiful blend of nature and biblical and poetry. Transcendental and Lovely piece. H 🌷
Thank you kindly, Honoria.