Ode To A Slow Dusk




In her own determined and

sweet, nearly tortuously delicate ascent,

her pomegranate ruffled skirt

moved toward the ruby

magenta of a hummingbird’s heart.

While we, the reverent, the rested,

reflective like the ocean

settled the wide web of our roots

deep into the underside of this

tropical island, each to reach

what only the ancient redwoods know

as they feed themselves

as close to the center of the earth

as possible.

It takes such an

anchor to stand close enough

to absorb the Glory

of such a smoldering coal.


David Bryen


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