Flowers are the music of the ground, from earth’s lips spoken without sound. ~ Edwin Cerran
Lupines are in the meadow,
speaking poetry of nature;
the breeze directing purple allegretto
for every forest neighbor.
My love shall we go walking
in golden warmth of summer,
with the flowers softly talking
in notes of every color?
Shall we then lay down and slumber
in the sweet grass and the flower,
where cares do not encumber
and dreams become our bower?
There we will surrender to the breeze
and drift on lupine's purple frieze.
Deborah Guenther Beachboard began writing in 1993 and had poetry published in Modern Haiku, Sijo West, Amaze: The Cinquain Journal, Short Stuff, Twilight Ending and other online and in-print journals.After a ten-year hiatus (2006-2016 a long boring story), Deborah returned to writing and currently posts her poems to the uncurated online forum Poetry Soup under the pen name Chetta Achara. https://www.poetrysoup.com/me/ChettaAchara She makes her home in the Adna Valley in southwest Washington state.
Comments