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open
by Maria Massarella
drops
of sunday sun
bejewel the trees
ripe each prysmatic
tear is fragrant pure
ness the mouth fills
with the taste of
s i n g i n g
light
*m.a
10/31/2007
Author's Note: * in the garden of the Santuario della Madonna delle Grazie ... it's up the hill beyond my window
Posted on 10/31/2007
Copyright © 2025 Maria Massarella
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Gira Bryant on 10/31/07 at 04:44 AM Lovely, Maria... wonderful. |
| Posted by JD Clay on 11/05/07 at 01:33 AM I don't think there is any more to say than, this one sparkles crystal clear. I think I know that tune.
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