Today will be a short post. No big project. Just what I call a breather poem. I wrote a short draft of a lyric about the joy of landscape here in Sonoma County.
[We are writing these things so that our joy might be complete]
Unfettered joy is hard to tether down:
sunlight sifts through fans of redwood branches
rolling hillsides blazing in pink blossoms
tang of bay, smell of deep forest wet earth,
surprise of what rises from what is left.
Joy that carries on wind can rise again
and again. Joy stitches words in passing
clouds. Even in the leaden hour, dark spot
growing on the horizon, to become
history. Joy spreads itself thin as sea
to cover everything in the salt of truth.
[We are writing these things so that our joy might be complete]
Unfettered joy is hard to tether down:
sunlight sifts through fans of redwood branches
rolling hillsides blazing in pink blossoms
tang of bay, smell of deep forest wet earth,
surprise of what rises from what is left.
Joy that carries on wind can rise again
and again. Joy stitches words in passing
clouds. Even in the leaden hour, dark spot
growing on the horizon, to become
history. Joy spreads itself thin as sea
to cover everything in the salt of truth.
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