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| Drifts amidst clifts |
| by Harriet Oliver |
The breeze gently drifts
seemingly slow
amidsts clifts
to knowingly go.
Then a storm uprist
raining a full cup drop
with the mist being trist
in dull & hollow doleful stop.
What was last now is first
perchance engaging in penance
as mecifully clouds do burst
not chargning no pence in trance of penitance.
Cleansing water's an element sent
meaning no less as waters bless
turning lament to sentiment
trespassing in the silentness.
Drifting winds do so with constraint
billowing in innate figure of speech
not bothering to exercise restraint
as the wind the fair breeze pauses to teach. |
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