The Sanctuary

Ground of green.
Creek of pristine.
Mounds and mounds in extremes.
Some dragonflies seduce the queen.

The woods are mellow.
Countless flowers in yellow.
There’s a frenzied sound like a violoncello.
Clouds formed the face of Longfellow.

Rhythm of madness is forgotten.
Towards West confines the upland cotton.
Vines of grapes are unrotten.
Perfection is begotten.

 

2019

 

About chester maynes

poet, and a lover of music and books.
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