On the day the world began,
I was born with the earth and the moon.
If you wonder how old I am,
It’s billions through and through.
On the day I was conceived,
The sun walked among mortal men.
As daughter of light I do naught or do right;
I can lie neither by lips nor pen.
On the day I came of age,
The moon claimed the night as her own.
My youth is tied to her domain;
As sure as the tides I’ve not grown.
ev’ry object breathes.
drawing moments in and out;
slowly cloaked in time
corn, it seems
springs full grown from the ground
to towering heights
and soy leaves
in their months-long dance
sway with the wind and rain
The grub feasts and
the sparrow as well
in shade and brush and dirt
for the summer sun beats relentlessly
sustaining all things
I would like to think I could be a poet on purpose.
Delivering smooth lines to you convincingly.
Stunning you not with what I said, but how I said it.
But it doesn’t really suit us, talking like that