uncloaking the grand oak.
The cricket’s song
drifts away with the breeze.
But the delicate Japanese maple
remains glorious and resplendent.
Lying under a charcoal sky,
leaves falling like memories of time past,
I turn my head and see you
in the distance.
You-the ruby-haired queen
standing on the rampart
watching battle weary soldiers fall.
And I understand hope.
Originally posted on Quirk N Jive on May 22, 2015