“Apples of the Unseen”



I grasp apples of the unseen,
bite deep into the pulp:
the tartness impels the furtive
flight of feet
to a wilderness far
from this tended garden —

Surrounded by the rustle
of sycamore leaves,
I hear the eagle
wingspans of Your voice,
I run for shelter

cocoon-ensconced
from the clamorous
strife of tongues,
I await
the song-soft whispers,
the lemon-yellow flutters —

Fragile wings bloom
with every springtime rose,
watered by vibrant,
crimson rivulets
flowing
from the distant hill.

by D. G. Vachal © 2013

“Thou shalt hide them in the secret of thy presence from the pride of man: thou shalt keep them secretly in a pavilion from the strife of tongues.” Psalm 31:20

“August Air”

August Air

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