Revised 28 August 2014.
A garden of plenty,
best seen by light,sleeps quiet as many
all though the night.A lonely cicada
makes a great sound,where none but the one
is around to be found.A specie of last year,
this year, the blight,makes this single creature
the sounds made at night.The garden of plenty
makes no sounds around –at night! but at light,
it’s loud and profound!in aesthetic colors,
chorals, renown –red, white and blues,
and others abound:a sight in delight,
‘til sunlight goes down.‘Tis then the cicada,
alone, comes around.Thus then, a garden
of plenty strange sounds:One done in colors,
of many a hue;the other one dolors,
unless it be new.©2014, Marvin Welborn
27 August 2014. Revised 28 August 2014.
~
A garden of plenty,
best seen by light,
sleeps quiet as many
all though the night.
A lonely cicada
makes a great sound,
where none but the one
is around to be found.
A specie of last year,
this year, the blight,
makes this single creature
the sounds made at night.
The garden of plenty
makes no sounds around –
at night! but at light,
it’s loud and profound!
in aesthetic colors,
chorals, renown –
red, white and blues,
and others abound:
a sight in delight,
‘til sunlight goes down.
‘Tis then the cicaca,
alone, comes around.
Thus then, a garden
of plenty strange sounds:
One done in colors,
of many a hue;
the other one dolors,
unless it be new.
~
Tink's ChapBlog ~ Tales of the Tribe. Mythopoeic Verse 