The Way You are in Paintings

Voice of old wind,

Waves of grass, glistening hills,

languishing before trailing off:

One last breath of afternoon,

Exhaling into evening stillness.


In my mind, alliterations of delusion,

Delighting in devouring dreamy days,

Silken splines standing steadfast

In riffled rivers of reverence,

Rain risen,

Held hoping.

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