I walk, embraced
by the icy warmth
of this late summer dusk —
aglow, the embers of the fields
are fondled by the wind,
the wind that quenched the fires
of ephemeral dandelions —
Droplets of emerald blood
trickle down the boughs,
return to their invisible roots,
imperceptibly
the leaves turn flavescent,
the cambric air is drenched in waterfalls
of honeysuckle blossoms —
I hear nostalgic songs
in the music of their fragrance.
by D. G. Vachal © 2013
*** Image: Courtesy of Wikimedia.org
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