Trova's Wood
By: Lori Waggoner
Silent, unmovable in perpetual repose
'Neath his shady post the bard reclines.
Jonquils, smiling heavenward, contentedly wave,
Welcoming with quiet joy all who enter.
Finches warble forth their sanguine Song of Spring
While feral-footed squirrels caper in time.
Fallen soldiers lie sheltered in stately mien -
Days of provision and protection past.
As twilight and golden nectar descend,
Copper and azure serenely converge;
Oblivious to, yet borne aloft midst
The beauties of Trova's Wood.
2 comments:
Thanks, Alicia! For whatever reason, I become VERY insecure after posting self-composed poetry! Partly because I think of it as "pseudo-poetry" since it follows no conventional forms, partly because it is personal and partly because last time people's natural inclination to interpret its "meaning" created a firestorm!!
Why didn't anyone tell me I spelled "sanguine" with a "q" the first time around?
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