deepundergroundpoetry.com
Silent Grass
The air is still, nothing moves
still on still and breathless,
sentinel trees and silent grass,
quiet in the copse folded wings
fear to stir the silent air;
proscenium clouds watching, still,
still on still, the silent grass
sleeps or is it 'wake,?
Dare I breath or lean the gate
until breezes cool the sweating air ?
Questions tire, brain pulsing,
blackbird's silent song, gaping beak
reflecting in the water,
worms cease their serpentine congress
for another day, pigeons too,
colours drying on the leaning easel
silent, still as eyelids close.
A silent twelve from the noonday steeple
pendant pendulum redundant for a while
the clock burdened with its weights.
The thirsty fountain, still
no splashes disturb reflected clouds,
gold fin and frogs asleep,
lily beetles cease their depredations
greenflies lying with the ladybirds
all still, beneath the cruel sun.
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