Coda Poem by michael oliver

Coda



The smoke rises - the saxophone wanders
The garden of orchestration - gently perfumed
Autumn brushed - all is low sunlight
The cat walks the green - idles
The procession - Sundays next to Advent
Turning and thinking upon the position
The hold on the fruit - relaxes

Monday, November 3, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: pastoral
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