The Light Made Of Stone
There in the Spring causality struck
There in the virgin glory
Fumbling rains masked the sun
Until the vessels emptied
This summers dog-days, infernal fray
Slow and abounding in whispers
What can I learn, for what I yearned
Drove itself towards these dunes
Telling the winds I was a storm
Whose clouds have dissipated
In the cool eve, you've scolded the Spring
And taught me discrimination
Your tongue wrung like the sluggish sun
Unveiling those secret wounds
Yet Autumn is here, in some humble seed
To save me from your pelting glory.
poem by Derrick Puente
Added by Poetry Lover
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