Envious of the Clouds, Amy Michelle Mosier, Amy Muniz [feel good books to read TXT] 📗
- Author: Amy Michelle Mosier, Amy Muniz
Book online «Envious of the Clouds, Amy Michelle Mosier, Amy Muniz [feel good books to read TXT] 📗». Author Amy Michelle Mosier, Amy Muniz
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Please see both of the 5-star reviews I got!
PINK is the morning sun ablaze.
Gray is the balmy air.
Purple is the city's haze.
Brown is the wren's bleary stare.
White is the glistening dew.
Night – adieu!
BEHOLD the marvelous wildflowers!
How they boldly carpet a sloping glen –
Our gift from Earth's seasonal showers.
Hardly is the desert recognizable
Come March to an untrained eye when
Spring has announced herself in full
Except for occasional saguaros –
The perennial observers to this annual display –
Perched on the precarious ledge they chose.
Penstemon and globe mallow are in glee;
Even the palo verdes celebrate
By showering the ground with yellow confetti.
SWEAT is the other garment
You wear in the desert
When the only water is in the cactus
And all but the flies are inert
But a cool layer of sweat
Is a hiker's proof of award
For taking a thin trail
And in curiosity, moving forward.
The Elusive Lady
The Moon became quietly jealous
One night when I surveyed Venus.
The usual glory reserved for her
Went to the dancer with Perseus.
At first, she passed for a star
Sparkling high above a church roof
But as she moved down further
Her ample speed gave proof.
Outgoing clouds didn't shroud
The evening sky of cerulean blue.
Enchanted, I stayed around
To observe her quick rendezvous.
Fair Venus shined like a jewel
Like one worthy to be set in a ring.
Because she was so beautiful
She sent a jaded Moon waning.
The wide net of the Milky Way
Was cast and had failed to pull her in.
She outshined the Dog Star
And had evaded sly Orion
And as the Sun moved below
He teased her with stealing her glory.
She lusted for that power
And disappeared after him shortly.
Tho' I know her general stream
And her light is brilliant and dense –
She's been gone. I haven't seen
The Elusive Lady since.
A DREAM is a butterfly
Fresh from the cocoon
That is realized and soon
Flutters up into the sky
Or faltering, goes astray
Is suddenly killed
While young still
And fast fades away.
A MILKY-EYED mourning dove
Sat upon a tall tombstone
Inside St. Francis where I roamed
To see family much beloved.
Quite the overseer of the lost –
Its scaly, orange feet
Were tucked in underneath –
I was struck by its presence.
The dove watched me serenely –
A poofy chest let out a sigh.
I felt good knowing as I walked by
It was whole among the deceased.
FLOWERS in the desert
Vibrantly grow forth
In yellows and purples
Despite the salty Earth
And when I think about
How birds can fly at all
I am reminded that
Anything is possible.
ImprintText: Amy Michelle Mosier
Images: Amy Michelle Mosier
Publication Date: 02-03-2012
All Rights Reserved
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