She’s really just a princess in a greenblue gown

The poetry of earth is never dead. 
– John Keats 

::

She laughs in flowers
strikes the violin strings of storm
hums in birdwing 
to remind us life’s a song. 

Her dance is treesway
shimmered moonspill on the sea
the thrum of heart 
to ocean wave. 

She speaks in whispered wind
and Morse code wink of sun
the drumbeats of hooves 
and rain. 

She stains the sky in crimson 
spill and emerald hills and 
gulps her fill 
of rivered vein. 

She’s silent as the morn is born
holding her breath 
and bowing her crown 
to stir each day. 

::

Happy Earth Day.


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