As the wind bends the tops of trees….. i wonder if it might be time……..

Loping green….. like the wagging happy of a dog…. do the branches bow and prostrate to the weather…….. and so, my soul.

And this causes me…… causes me deep and quiet contemplation…. of my reticent and unfolding present…… and of my beyond that exists…. as fragile and as pale as lingering pale blue….. skies….. or as fragile and as dear as clear blue….caribean coral phloxed sea….. 

both perfection glass…. flat menagerie of what exists….. or…. what has been…… imagined

Soooooo…….perfectly smoothed and preserved…. fawned and fingered like a treasure……yet…… any moment a ripple or a cloud…… to disturb perfect reflection……gazing into what we believe exists………..

or…… what we have imagined. 

And….. i do believe it’s time

So little demons have they been wandering….. the parapet about my head……  my halo…..quiet deep and taunting do they dance…. delicately about my halo diving deep towards my spirit….. and i’ve let them…..

So, I do belive it’s time

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