Off the Porch

The sun slowly shades
Beneath the trees, beneath the trees
And glitters with the pines
Its wispy rays.
The world whispers in its gray resolve
From skyline piercing arbor
To the creek’s articulate sway
Were blue the sky of boundless pleasure
Shade the sigh of artful being.

Depthless are the summer leaves
Which brim each golden cup to bleed.
So deep and soundless is the stream
Calls out a grave around with rocks
And breathing is the breeze
Which bears all sense fruition
Deathless like the sun
Which sinks to bear in mind transition.

We whisper in the grass
Softly sighs the sun

We whisper in the grass
To weep moon-weary gasps

For naked are the trees
Who hold in hallow hue their heart
And skeletal the stagnant stones
Which water brims to beam their very bones.

And as the sun is known alive when
Dying
All the world must whisper bones to go.

When Adam’s leaves were clenched to hide his sin
The thorny blight choked out
The lushest hue into dispair.