Archive
11/13/11 - (2)
Promise
This gloriously warm mid-November Sunday afternoon, St. Louis's Japanese Garden, Seiwa-en, Is all a faceted sea of undulating breeze-waves.
The presence and press of people seeking leisure Are conspicuously missing, As are most leaves in the crowns of its winterbound trees. Only the ginkgos' lustrous yellow glows And the Japanese maples' crimson, scarlet, and orange halos, Their rich, translucent hues Highlighted by sunrays exposing the foliage's inner beauty, As they pass through precarious flesh,
Remind me of the majesty I'm witnessing disappear And the promise of viridescent plenitude Waiting, just months ahead, on spring's unborn shores.
11/13/11 - (2)
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