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Thursday, January 25, 2007

thinly flaked gold

it's 9am on a thursday.

work will go sit in the corner for a moment, ordered,
as inward leave of this office taken.


and as the mind spins in,
a paradoxical scooping 'round
of speed gathering flush,
rushing air felt on face, through fingers,
sweeping over smiling lips.


eyes open to horizon's expanse,
a launched satellite,
winged beast screaming,
free.

thin winter's sun warms the back,
with these heights reached.

chest expands, scents of the world
rumble inward.

freshly dewed dirt,
rooty, sooty smells.

first fallen redwood,
wet, winded, given over.


tastes of freedom,
swim lightly on the tongue,
evaporating all too quickly,

as work steps from its corner,
tapping watch, mouthing,
"9:06"

10 comments:

bbElf (a.k.a. panda) said...

and nothing gold can stay...

X Bunny said...

aaaah

now, that's a nice post

Anonymous said...

freshly dewed dirt,
rooty, sooty smells.

first fallen redwood,
wet, winded, given over.


i like...

banks said...

I just followed your directions into the bright blue sky then I swooped down into a verdant forest scented fresh from recent rain. Thanks for the map. That was a great post.

PAB said...

it took you six whole minutes to write that?

such a talent.

Anonymous said...

Uber Poet Laureate Hernando.

nicely done.

captain sassy pants said...

dang, you should take my english 102 class

-max

Anonymous said...

perfect.

Anonymous said...

better late than never.
I did some breathing this morning and got to enjoy the outdoors for once.. can you believe it??

MoJito said...

i read this post backwards. it was equally as nice.