Where Moon, a solar graveyard, shows its mettle
Earth’s piling up for him enough of shadows
and hangs wide horns over the sky gates gently.
The resting place is good for bones. Star meadows
are getting overrun by youth. Storks settle
the blooming inspiration – spring is ready
to step outside and call it sentimental
the winter last outburst, the anger’s fading.
It’s thinning in the serpentine like fibers,
in swan songs of the last of ice-out moments.
Cry from the heart is whispered out by starlings.
Those warlocks in the green press boost subscribers
with sharing news about the latest omens –
the flapping wings of balminess, a sally.
June 6, 2018
Sonnet XXXV
© Copyright: Юрий Лазирко, 2018
Свидетельство о публикации №118070606977
Свидетельство о публикации №118070606977
Рецензии