Treasure Island

Jason Lowes


She


The wind in a hurricane,
The moon on a summer’s night.
The sun breaking the horizon
And dew at first light.
She is the earth for trees and fruit
Everlasting, ever caring. Forever breaking the tradition of mood.
With a clear sky filled with a vivid arc of shades of hue
After rains have fallen from a once black sky
Turning from grey gray to fresh, bright blue.
She confuses me, as much as the world’s worst enigma.
Juxtaposed, set like prose, but posed in poetic stigma.

Submitted: Wednesday, September 11, 2013
Edited: Thursday, September 12, 2013

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