Worldly Windfalls
A ring upon her finger bright,
A royal princess, crowned in light.
A ring posy, a bouquet, soft and fair,
Yet love holds thorns like roses fair.
And bees have stingers as well as honey,
Sweet yet sharp, both bright and sunny.
An apple-gathering in a season’s glow,
A year’s windfalls lie as the orchards grow.
A white hen sitting, patient, still,
While all the bells were ringing shrill.
A study of the soul’s embrace,
A testimony time won’t erase.
A seasons wish, so light, so free,
A fragrant whisp of the apple tree.
A toadstool comes up in a night,
A fleeting thing—a ghost, a light.
A triad bound by farmlands destiny,
a breakfast of apples, eggs and honey.
Like an emerald broach, as green as grass,
Yet even jewels will dim and pass.
The season tells tales, life holds it’s breath,
For after this—the judgment, death.
Aloof, yet longing, the world turns cold,
Amen—love of the world grows old.
WoPoLi 
Leave a comment