elysabeth faslund Poems

Where do I go...after.
Father was a big man...
Deep prints, worn path...
'This way, daughter, '
...

Crackly tagging twigs
Tattling on the rain
Miced up in the skies...
Thin, thin disguise!
...

Brown lawn, long
Gone to Winter's
Talons...
...

The conjugal state of conniption...
Just a redundant description
Of your consort's, 'No you ain't! '
And your peaceful state of 'saint'...
...

It is the Lights around the corners...
Those everyday corners...
That surprise, delight, reappear
For our questions...
...

Sunrise...no surprise.
Trees are where
They're supposed
To be...
...

To have sparkling dew on your roses
Every morning...
To have coffee or tea with...just the
Right amount of
...

An early hour of mist....
Filmy, translucent robes.
The forests' Ambassadors
Are about...Royalty.
...

This evening...
Roasting aroma,
In my kitchen,
Fills a dog's eyes,
...

Speak you the days of Sun's warmth quietly.
Reverently. This church will open doors
Too soon, (much too soon) to galing Autumn's
Outrage of being summoned into fire.
...