an orchestra in the wild
offers free tickets: featuring a wind's sigh
through fallen leaves and sister trees,
magnificent tumbling and singing of many a feather
catching eyes, catching light, catching gold
while an envious god paints the evening sky
it's that time of the day, the sun and sky
have their desires simmering and wild.
your soul paints gold
upon the loudest but smallest sigh,
warm, cosy breezes feather
whispers laughter echoing throughout fields of trees
patiently folding time into barks and leaves; the trees
still fall short of the imposing sky
and cartwheeling around them still the feather--
joyously young and rude and wild--
ignores the aged forest's sigh.
chanting. "we are unbreakable, we are gold"
they have not yet met cunning gold,
immortal gold, which even the stories of trees
are not as scandalous as. many a wives tear and sigh,
a ruined family's only witnesses, the walls and sky
are unmoving but dreaming wild
"who is lighter than the feather?"
but the loneliness of a feather
goes unsaid as it immortalises in silver and gold.
hope is not wild,
it is a metamorphosis, like the thoughts of trees,
so grows older the sky,
by and by no one hears its travelling sigh.
a weary propagation, the many forms of a sigh
rides on the silkiness of a feather
traversing the ends of sky
the end of the rainbow is not gold
it is a secret old and young trees
keep in the elusive wild
the sky continues to sigh,
in the wild a feather is born
and gold is stolen from the trees
