lovers of seasons
supple flesh and
weathered skin
meld May to
December, and
who can fathom
validity of their
seasons? sleeping
giants of
prophecy arose
for the taking
but lust is a
ransom paid for
silence. indulge,
humor, and
grant me my
folly, for soon
these words
will be your
own: take
my hand,
steady me
before the sun
while still I see
my shadow.
Photo taken by R. Baker, Lake Buchanan, Texas
Poem ©2011 R. Burnett Baker
Photo©2011 R. Burnett Baker
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