Danaë

Veronica Aldous - Poetry and Art


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Danaë

The trees have been so whipped by gods
They show their tears in drifts of coins
Paying their obeisance to the soil
In flashing polka dots strewn like confetti
Upon the veils of still-green juices
I am affronted by the wind’s tearing
The way it skews the season
I want to hold my hands upon the moon’s curves
Peer into its surfaces, hold back falling
Shove my staff into the yellow shoals

Summer’s elusive kisses still pressing
Upon September’s cooling  brow.

Veronica Aldous 2016 All Rights reserved

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