Open Skies Of Hours Poem by Peter S. Quinn

Open skies of hours
Time adjust each new play
The forgetful dayflowers
Gathering as they may
Meaningless dried voices
Straws of time and wind
Each and everyone’s choices
Same short and twinned

Grasses of the minutes
Every footstep done
Blossoms that alternates
Cobweb’s that have spun
Reasons and its whisper
Remembering reappearing
Pictures getting crisper
When they are disappearing

Kingdoms of the choices
Forces shading color
Quiet together rejoices
Clouds of skies duller
Leaning shapes and forms
Twisting through the lost
Something without norms
In its forms embossed