Movements by body, by far-off dominions,
Hardly one’s own - territorial contentions.
Well, by body? Well, movements?
Oscillations, displacements, the friction of air.
Response, signal, a chain made of links -
Any one of them may be weak.
An ovary in a knot, the flowers’ underground,
Breaking into light, seems brazen
As a weave of translucent stems,
Barely turned green from the yellow-dark,
An intricate pattern - and roots even more so,
Un-folded in fine shadows of entanglement.
Visibility close to zero, and blinders
Of branches and leaves, so minutely
In-fed into vision’s earing field
Through paired, low-bowing furrows.
The clouds, stopping at the very first
Step, stumbling, spreading themselves flat,
Freezing, surveying the far-off dominions,
Pressed close, flattened for a moment.
Summerly bodily
© Copyright: Дмитрий Левский, 2026
Свидетельство о публикации №126080406745
Свидетельство о публикации №126080406745
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