THE FIFTH SEASON
In the stumps of the yard,
The broken edges of axes have left,
Like a guestbook,
Endless signatures and lines,
Marks.
The heavy doors of the towers
Cast a breeze,
Like sherbet for brides
When they step over the threshold
For the first time.
In the guest room,
Like a whirlpool,
Magic draws you in.
Everywhere the air embraces,
The springs kiss hands,
Trees open eyes of joy,
Birds scatter clouds and darkness,
Avalanches rest,
Paths widen into trails,
Slopes lend a hand,
Peaks bow before the guest.
The four seasons
Change like dancers in a beautiful dance,
But hospitality is a season
That never changes.
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Author:
Sami Mulaj (
Offline) - Published: September 14th, 2025 19:09
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 18
Offline)
Comments1
A nicely painted picture of the scene, well detailed and imaged
As always, I greatly appreciate your careful reading and consider it a help in my efforts in verse! Thank you.
You are most welcome
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