Tuesday, September 23, 2008

Earth Contact

Under the sun I gossip with the grass

And its shadows show,

As I lend an ear for jazz,

Played by the black crow.

Then with my eyes, I flirt with the tree

For it may be a sin,

To stare at whats free,

And want to dive in.

Then wind brushes my lips

And they began to go dry,

For water I need to sip,

Which is water I need to cry.

But if my senses know nature,

I am only a creature.

1 comment:

Chris S said...

Wow, great stuff. Good to have you here on the blog and quite amazing of you to contribute to the poetry week.