Little boys playing in the brown mud
Toy dump trucks building reservoirs
Took a hose to fill it - with Water
God playing in the red dirt dug out
A human form only one time
Took a nose to fill it - with Spirit
Nothing's been the same since
a bright electric green Carolina Anole
in a Texas humid summer black oak tree
while Vivaldi baroque sonatas and cannoli
and coffee play and provoke the senses making
sense of a scented blue paper origami turtle taking
time while a team of pea size featherlight flower balls
go power racing down the baking black asphalt street
tickling, having fallen from pink and white crêpe myrtle trees
- Gary Edward Geraci
-
Author:
Gary Edward Geraci (
Offline) - Published: September 16th, 2017 12:25
- Comment from author about the poem: Celebrating the joy and beauty of creation that we take in through our sense of touch, taste, smell, sound, and sight. Enjoy!
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 33
Offline)
Comments3
I'm as envious of this poem as I am of your beard. Haha. It's a great read.
Thank you for your read, comment, and beard compliment. We draw from the same source. May the "source" be with you (I couldn't resist!)
This was so descriptive it bordered on sensory overload...an intricate web some talented writing spider has woven. I enjoyed the read.
Thank you Mr. Franklin for your read and comment. I'm glad to hear the writing touched upon your senses!
i can remember those mud puddles well from my childhood,it took me back
Thanks for sharing your memory Ron; I appreciate your visit, read, and comment.
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