ensembles grey

Colors azure colors scarlet
Wrap their arms around the years,
Sitting long with colors brown.
The meadowlands brood
And soils patient and still,
Breathe an easy rhythm.
Frozen clumps of sod and stone,
Plowed up in vast families,
Join unbroken anonymity.

An ancient sleep covers the farm ponds,
And hangs like spanish moss,
From the evergreen boughs,
Mist nets catching the sighs,
Rising from their brothers,
Whose polyfingered hands,
Spread against the grey slumber,
Like profiles of dancers
At the end of a move.

By Les Blough

More poetry by Les Blough

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