Friday, August 26, 2022

Sonnet #359

 No grand designer came and made a tree


but grand designers come behind and speak


the majesty, a perfect form, and it breaks



The skyline, holds the sand, and feeds


A million lives smaller than the eye


And a million more, the size of thumbs,


And how many more, while deaf, mute, numb


Simply being, standing still, eating sky


Oh greatness where the name resounds,


The pictures kept a thousand years and more


The stories told that make new story round


And round and round until the echo bores


The flash of lights, the grand gestures, the world

And yet the trees stand, in quiet, unperturbed




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