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Poetry Magnum Opus

Roots


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reflections-leaves on the branches of the mind,clock

hands catch glass leaves, seasons balance on each
others shoulders. The wind is like a tattooists needle
shaping clouds.
 
The wind dances with it's stiff partner the rain. Words
fall on the ears of those newly born. A needle trying
to pass through it's own eye, to surmise who will catch
the fruit from the tree when it is fully grown. 
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Terry L shuff

Your depictions are so perceptive and discerning. Yet retain Poetic creativity and vision.  My favorite line  ' to surmise who will catch the  fruit from the tree when it is fully grown.

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