March 6th, 2006

  • ash346

(no subject)

“You wonder how these things begin.
Well, this begins with a glen.
It begins with a season, which for want of a better word we might as well call September.
It begins with a forest, where the woodchucks woo
and leaves wax green and vines entwine like lovers.
Try to see it.
Not with your eyes for they are wise, but see it with your ears.
The cool green breathing of the leaves
and hear it with the inside of your hand,
the soundless sound of shadows flicking light.
Celebrate sensation!
Recall that secret place.
You’ve been there, you remember.
That special place, where once, just once in your crowded sunlit lifetime,
you hid away in shadows from the tyranny in time.
That spot besides the clover where someone’s hand held your hand,
and love was sweeter than the berries or the honey or the stinging taste of mint.
It is September, before a rainfall.
A perfect time to be in love.”