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| Francoise Hardy. |
"Tendrils soft like velvet nightshade,
Crawl quietly through the dark.
Moving forward gently,
Guided by the wisdom of ages long forgotten.
Crevices in splitting marble,
Worn smooth by centuries' wear,
Dark and bearing moss,
As woman's hair upon the pillow.
Air cold as winter's sea,
Mist like ghosts between the trees,
There is a whisper of deepest truth,
Neglected by minds speeding through the light.
Sitting here the garden breathes,
Quiet, hushed, but never yielding,
It knows too well its role and fate,
A guardian for those who stumbling by, recognize its worth.
Patience comes to those who wait;
Stoic stones, unyielding spires,
Never rush as they prevail,
Lying in wait for the passage of all things."
--October 12, 2012
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| Redford. |
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