Sunday, March 24, 2013


Settled into clay and sand.
Fallen and forgotten.
Across four hundred years of yesterdays.
Stirred and wound into the unmoving firmness.
Now boldly hushing leaves,
Stirred without hurry.
A jar filled with lavender husks,
Sweetness disguised in the longing.

Even the mighty oak tree disguises itself as an acorn for awhile. 
This is my country of waiting.

this weeks words over at Brenda's are:disguised, forgotten, country, hurry, tree, wound,
mind, sand, stirred, jar, across, yesterday