Workaday realities disappear,
bright bubbles in a flashflood of birdsong,
and the garden becomes a shady mere,
green ripples that echo all summer long. l
Peace creeps from grass to leaf to tree, along
each branch, farther than any wings can reach,
way over the top of the silver beech,
from which a sole premature foliole,
like a starfish riding waves to a beach,
shimmering with sunshine, begins to fall.
Kim M. Russell, 18th July 2019
My response to dVerse Poetry Pub Poetry Form: The Dizain
This week Rosemary is here to share one of her favourite forms. I’ve never come across the name before, but I might have written one without knowing.