chisel-stone surface
yet through your micro-fractures
life springs through the cracks
~csr
a cogent cerulean sky
the arraign of wind
a smell of pine and cedar
harangues my face
and pulls on my heart
traversing past
the sleepy water
on the road to open meadows
of emerald and gold
outlying silos
set stoic
amid crimson barns
and
in steady harmonization
of constant flow
through the countryside
there is magnificence
to be embraced
in whichever open bearing
even so
stock-still
my compass points
to the overgrown
and thorned path
to your door
