A Bird-of-Paradise.
Is there any other kind?
An Azul cloud of
Butterflies
Ascending like confetti in reverse.
A Weeping Willow
Grasps its murky base.
While, on the other side,
A haphazard picket fence.
A dog barks,
And then withdraws.
In the absence of an enemy not seen,
A heartfelt silence ensues none the wiser.
Encompassing all, and above all,
All encompassing.
Else.
I recline, as the worlds digress,
and the turmoil recedes, delicately.
I sip.
Never earnest.
But,
With oblivious aplomb.
On this last day of many such journeys,
A setting Sun, while never at rest,
Continues its return with due diligence.
I contemplate the burning embers of an encroaching infinity.
Stalwart birds glide to my surprise.
The layered hues of fading magnificence.
Revealed by clouds,
Existing only in my memory.
The sky glistens in its own abundance,
Depth, if not bliss, an inevitability.
A final moment of finality.
Free.
My backyard is my kingdom.
My kingdom for a rogue.
A ruoge bathrobe will do,
What’s due to me from my neighbor.
While the wine in Thyme,
A refresher Mint.
Suits me to a Tea, this,
Nine-times-out-of-ten.
I’ll betcha.
It’s about time I forget.
I sip again, this time for sure.
Lonely clouds have all departed.
Leaving me Sunny, that’s you!
And we smile away the last.
Droplets of time.
What Port is Malbec?
It is perspicacious.
Backdrop blue quickly receding East.
The Sun abandons us together.
Finally, this time.
The sky becomes ink-stained with hues,
Like the velvet? A red unfurls.
We pretend not to notice.
The bottle is not half full.
Philosophy fulfills us.
Finally it happens.
Time, stand still.
James Legare 8-12-16
