When Perception

by Thea Schiller

     When perception
          Of Mountain Laurel
                The songs of pink and white,
                             And polkadot
                      Give little birds, a rush and thrush,
                        beyond the skunk cabbage, under brush,
          And rotted logs, the wood chipped splintery
                         Of yesteryear transforms
             A path of stillness.
            The sky beckons, “Open, I can provide the light” she says.

            Do not dally inside the winds of trouble which blew
                  The storm of brew under your brow.

               You do not have to be frog, dolphin, or amphibian
                                To mammal up.
                                The milk can burst
                    to froth, upon the skimming tops of waters.
                        Adrenalin can rush
                                 to adam’s apple to land inside your heart
                                           Before you leave the residue of shine
                                                      Upon this earth.

© 2021 Thea Schiller  All rights reserved.

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