Sun's Last Grace Poem by Sandra Fowler
Sun's Last Grace
Your hands smell of wood shavings, sun's last grace.
That tawny essence fills all empty space.
I scarcely hear you talk of southbound birds.
Time has gone far beyond the mood of words.
The magic of the moment turns the landscape round.
That carousel defies all music to be found.
Only the wicked shadows carry us away
Into the insignificance of yesterday.
For we are common as the fallen leaves.
Who stops for them, or for such treasure grieves?
Frail bones enclose a memory that burns.
Smoke brings it back when bittersweet returns.
Friend. I shall love forever what is flawed,
The pattern of a hunter's face outlawed.
Thoughts trace him in the frost upon the glass.
Leaves whisper, hello, hello to the waiting grass.
This is a timeless piece, an essence of past moments caught by your finely skilled hand Thankyou Sandra Love duncan X
I love the way you have captured the mood in this poem Sandra. Each line and rhyme flows so beautifully to the next, your writing is seamless. Warmest wishes, Justine.
The poem almost a whisper of a secret twitter bird.............she sings alone in a thick bush........beware of cruel hunters!
Leaves whisper, hello, hello to the waiting grass. Aha, Aha! You are truly gifted, my dear poet!
Reading in total admiration, you have a unique way of expressing yourself as only the very gifted can do.Your Poems are what we need on this planet Sandra. Thank you.
I am fighting hard to be part of that scenario that your mind produces. Wonderful.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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11/15/2025 2:42:42 AM # 1.0.0
This is art............