Rust (a traditional poem)

The earth rusts once a year,
in the air adheres a crust
of dark orange;
All is dusky
arrayed
with shimmering decay;
The land is surprised
by its somberness,
but does not fight;
The glowering sky
cast shadows
in dying light;
There is no
cowering or fright
in the carpet
of darkened canopies;
The air sucks water
from noble
glowing leaves;
The trees shout
proudly
in stunning silence;
The earth
does not mourn
this tender violence;
In this cadence
of seasons
incubates birth;
In blankets
of molds and dirt,
the dust
knows its reasons

c. 2001, 2008 Evan Gilling

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: