Change

Change[1]

Double-take;
Fire on woods’ edge?
No;
Yellow, orange leaves
Rippling in the wind;
Seasonal, Creational
Change fools my mind.

Fire-works;
Explosion in the sky?
No;
Ginger, carroty leaves
Shimmering in the tree;
July, October
Change brings my smile.

Aromatic;
Fragrance from the store?
No;
Fresh, cut fields
Wafting in the air;
Planting, Harvesting
Change rejoices my soul.

Mark Eckel  30 October 08


[1] Notice the seven lines per stanza, indicating perfection; the repetitious, reflective lines producing normalcy and order.  The one word antithetic to the others (“store”) is in the last stanza, intending by its presence in a place it does not belong to show one need not go to a man-made situation to find aesthetic beauty.  Each word is carefully chosen, allowing the comprehensive, coherent cosmos to speak (Genesis 2:1).  The last line of each stanza is a warbling, human response: is there any adequacy in my words, my expression, my response?!  The last word identifies the whole of me: an indefinable term to say what is incommunicable (“How does one talk about what one feels when he enjoys beauty?!”).

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