Wednesday, March 25, 2020

The Arc

Lynda Lehmann c 2020 - All rights reserved.

The Arc

I drift on a thought, on the whoosh of a bough.

A giant oak umbrella.

Sky is grey 

but azure patches remain.

It doesn’t matter.

I see my consciousness in clouds

reflected in windshields.

Though just a child I feel special:

nature whispers to tell me who I am.

So many revelations!

With balm and tonic ever close,

storms are fleeting.

Smug with the privilege of secrets shared,

I need no reprieve from this conversation.

Trees have been hugging me since I was old enough to walk.

Two years old or maybe less, on a swing in a playground in Brooklyn,

I peer upward as 

I orchestrate the air.

Jubilant arcs beg the question, “What is the sky?”

How is it that I’m able to swing through the sky?

When I grow older, I realize that the sky conjoins

the infinite potentials of the universe.

And these halls might as well be a palace,

for I am rich.

Lynda Lehmann c 2020 - All rights reserved

Buy My Art!

My most popular images for sale at Shutterstock:

Comical and Endearing Bird Ritual....