Friday, April 28, 2006



Here is wisdom.
Here occasional lovers trysted
and twisted in passions grip.
Here, waiting and meeting crept together
on Summer's evening,
arms embraced in Autumn chill
or shallow Spring sunset,
and twilight entangled night
for a while,
Here decades of promises
grew or decayed
in volumes of unspoken glances.
Here , you and I, and they, and we,
separated realities for those moments
that would never be forgotten,
nor remembered for what they were.
Here the silent sentinel keeps its counsel,
or whispers wind released secrets,
to the birds who never understand
nor care for they have their own trysts.

1 comment:

Rita L. Betti said...

I love this photo, Keith. What a great set of for such a thoughful and contemplative piece of work. I can almost hear the tree whispering "if I could only talk."