Mild Wild

The trailing edge of shadows fetter
on plain hills;
The fields and moods robed
afresh;
We were made for latitudes
Here to watch the green mountains
break new turf
The souls of our niches
pant for breaths
Enchanted melted blades
still blazing
Who feed the ravaged
with wild eggs
and dumb songs
Who banished the bossoms
from care and ruth
Tan our eyes
They’re blind to tender things
Spare our ears
They are deaf
only to reason
Save some buttercups
for butterflies
And some innocence
for the youth.

9 thoughts on “Mild Wild

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