Renewal

There is music
Beneath
The walking city
A river front niche
A palette
Of flint
A cable of rugged country road
A spring of vitality
Stirring
Below the carapace
Of cobblestone
And Earth’s suede bed.

Far from the renewal of the
Birch forest
In the seat of the Valley,
There is a glint of
Discernment
A pocket
Taking form.

Bringing low the soaring cedar
Giving rise to Mallow
On the restful range
There is a tamed tableau:
Purple, glazed calla lillies
Turned out in heather.

There is a furlough
Buried
And awaiting one’s arrival
In fields of the mind.

gjh.

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