Sky-scape
With the rusty cry of crickets
time's lock is turning.
Day bows as night
on a cool breeze enters
nature's un-spun canvas.
Green trees merge
to plots of ancient
onyx meadow.
The sky in cobalt bloom
nests a glaring moon
whose sublimated silver flows
in dew-clad undergrowth
that turns to misty forest
on the sky-wide landslip
kept in check
by diamond nails.
Overture
Morning light steals
into the eyes
diluting a dream
that floats off in the new day
where the shade of palms
tunnels itself in dew.
A hazy dawn
whose fate - like dreams
is to fade.
All moorings cut
the sun takes to small
white flowers - warms
the inoffensive mutter
of waking parrots
- an ocean-green blabber
of formal sponge-talk.
A misty wedge of light
cuts frozen fountains
of gold grass bent with dew.
Strewn among
the rust of weeds gone dry
black curls of banana peeling
spell the graceful script
of a new tropics
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