A Poem With The Word Gold

Silhouette Match

"I do not want to copy nature. I'm more interested to put up with her."

Georges Braque

Encinas regrowth at the edge of an olive grove.

Holding the cold of the night.

verea

At low fog. White

among dwarf.

When I go alone.

I sing of spring. Among

mirrors, puddles, I'm watching.

And now if I just my reflection.

That now I am part.

My steps are percussion.

Jpac