Down Pours From Our Static Green Acre Poem by Mark Heathcote

Down Pours From Our Static Green Acre



Rivers wash over me meditatively.
Thoughts feel amplified, purified.
It's like taking a cough medicine
For brain phlegm all dewy-eyed.

It's got its own brand of remedy
Soothes yet; doesn't lack panache
Stropping down the mountain tops
Alongside, Rowan trees, black Ash

Down snowy capped mountain tops
... Its treacly elixir a visual surrender
Somewhat, somehow, long-forgot—
Downpours from our static green acre

Like a wild herd of white stallions
Here my grey matter shorelines at
That blue pacific expanse and, dolphins
Exacting rejoices in pleasure do acrobat.

Even as we ourselves are evaporated
Into our innermost selves, there's a
Flowing riverbed grace divine so arid—
It befalls every region in us to melt away.

Uncharted, love is space
'Space' allows for exploration.
Until, we find a mountain's top, divine grace
A riverside to me is the next godliest place.

Until then I'll meditatively look down.
Like an empty ladled moon on a spoon
On what our own allotted—
Little time allowed us to store in bloom.

Thursday, October 23, 2014
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