Spring rills
.

original verse poetry
and photographs
.
— @d-pend —
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Spring rills

Long have the rills of the spring rain
Fed the deep roots of the forest
And flowed over hills to the plain,
sunk down in the marsh to languish.

They sink down to the time-laden loam,
the urgent, young freshets of March;
They meander and find their way home,
and sit at pond-ashram of mud.

As they twist into lotus of stillness
I creep at the edge of the clearing;
And I watch rippled ritual slow-bless
The gentle of sight, subtle-hearing.

And I'm set into April's warm dreaming
by the stir of the breeze and the lingering
of the sun, rushèd farewells avoiding
turning suddenly, amorous, feelingly

To light the wan lantern of night;
Long has she flickerèd, steadily
dispelling an unholy fright:
dark unknown and dun magic, ready

Long for the rills of the spring rain
to feed the deep roots of the forest
and flow over hills to the plain,
to sink down in the marsh to languish.

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This post is original content
— created by @d-pend —
published on-chain on
— April 15, 2020 —

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