Tuesday, March 24, 2015

Beyond the Electrical Lines

The weeds are talking, symphonic in the breeze
Each blossom says “love me” to the sky and to the bees
And wave hello to we who don’t know
How our smiles come in sunglow to please.

These orange hairs may in themselves well be something
But the way they shake, along the spearmint tree
Says “What powers you, dear sun, powers me.”