Friday, February 20, 2015

ON BLUE LAKE

 Sunshine wakes
on my way to a cello lesson
in   the swarms
   of amicable  birds
   and one shapeless black swan
   among the lost voyages
feeling as a penitential young
   Baudelaire in meanderings
  from a renewed nature
   of a cosmic sorrow
in the singing honeycomb
   of morning's solitude.

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