The Grand Hermitage Affair
Gentle brown leaves before me,
And crunch underfoot.
I pray that I don't hurt them,
They seem oblivious to my presence.
Wisteria is in a playful mood today,
I noticed that she had braided her hair
And has twisted it's many strands
Around columns of brick,
Peppered in ashy moss
With spidered webs
Whose residents hath vacated the premises.
Locust sing their lovely lullaby
And the black wrought iron fountain
Babbles about the visitors.
She spits when she talks
and I've not decided if she's rude
because she does so
In such an eloquent way.
Rosebuds litter the gardens
and has set my nose a bliss
With their heavenly aroma.
I feel that, I am floating in sin
For something so sensuously pleasant
Can't possibly be so.
Namaste, I greet back
To the winged creature
Nestled amongst the Crepe Myrtles.
I know not of its origin
for it hides its face from me.
The arbor provides me refuge
And a pleasant shad of peace,
I think it's indigo.
I catch the wind peeking
Around the brick columns and braids
To see what i am doing,
Yet he bothers me not.
I am thankful for the moments.
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