Palms in the caves of ‘La Mita’
Touched; silver, frail flesh and skulls.
Out, at last in the bloom of spring,
I caress flowers, hold barks easily
And smile at the dull sky.
A babe amidst the beauty;
Skin texture of cotton,
Care glistened my eyes,
Concern beyond self knowledge,
Flung it into the air,
Hundred, white and black butterflies,
It became.
Into the wild they flew,
My old spine sat under the tree,
Life hovered, around,
Touching the soil, the rains fell
I drenched in fountain falls of gentleness.
M.O.O aka Carswell evoL
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