Everything

Everything

Dappling a rich tapestry of verdant texture,

The earth has yielded all its fruit,

Tangerine.

Through the filigree gates of memory,

Recognising us as mortals,

Under, over, weaving, winding,

Across Bavarian hills the wind

Cleanses.

An iron bell peals,

Dances her into rebirth,

Uncorseted from 'a promising future'

Henrietta's thoughts are stippled with

Moonshade.

She trembles in the palm of God's hand,

In the communion of now,

The blue orchids brighten

Everything.

© Gabrielle Goldsmith 2012