by Peter Notehelfer
Timothy King

Timothy King

With closed eyes
I walk beneath the trees
so green with new growth
the very air breathes life
Can you smell it? 

This arboretum
has no gardener save
the poet who plants every
towering tree & flower
with his words

Hear the spring
splashing over rocks
never spent unexhausted
crisp as May wine
on the tongue

In this wood
all seasons merge
jonquil & chrysanthemum
bloom side by side
in the meadow

The apple tree
blossoms & bears
blushes & burns all at once
so to soothe a restless
heart’s distress

With closed eyes
I walk beneath the trees . . .


2 Responses to “Arboretum”

  1. another take on “the living word”


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