POETRY
Cerulean Shadows, White Daffodils
Undiscovered Flowers and Waiting Fireflies
Those muffled noises of the branches of pine shifting,
then everything’s quiet, the fragile sun glimmering,
over the dry surface,
deep blue shadow, on cerulean seawater, hovers,
the divided silver aspen tree, underneath,
meeting with the hollow stems of white daffodils,
seeing that blue sky through fir trees,
shadows, shadows trailing over cool rocks,
that great maple tree leaves growing over it,
raw winds blowing over tendrils of pale violet lilacs,
blue flowers on the porch window, nodding left and right,
the moon rising over moist earth in the lower garden,
walking solitary among black sprigs,
a red spike on the slope behind the asters,
an undiscovered flower, maybe?
the cricket not yet rubbing their wings, to start their night concert,
that lone firefly blinking continuously, waiting for the cricket’s song,
waves of the blue sky, waiting for a plethora of echo-like voices,
the hills clouded with unknown blue flowers,
and in the end, what?
a small magenta flower suddenly blooming like a baby star,
its heart as empty now as that momentary moment before the first note,
of your newly unboxed piano.
