—somewhat after G. M. Hopkins
Rococo of branches’ scribbled bliss (to
skies of cirrus filtering streaking-linen
grace; to fuzzed nubs of antlers on young bucks
out back; rotunda’d, wind-felled oaks; insects’
notes; hedges shivered and lulled; dawn, water,
and dune; to plants’ husks, tremors, vibrations,
and tongues; stems’ tubes sculpted, impromptu, and
smooth-furred; to whatso is furtive, vital,
and taut-calm; still-strung; benignant-brute), whose
lyrics’ candor captures absolution.
Photo by Mila Tovar on Unsplash
