It Is Still Turning…
I walked through my garden to vent, Why no song of bird, My day was spent walking Tiny grass leaves stirred, Few flowers awake but star gazers heard. Darkened light, but thro my garden I walk, Damp touching toes over flowers in grass, Waving pines, fragrancing my pass, Feeling the soul of the garden ground, Purpled final lines of sunrays going down, Dimming tears, yet bound by realization Denying the World found upside down, Still a tiny, blue Planet of…