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Board Administrator Username: mjm Post Number: 3880 Registered: 11-1998 |
Honorable Mention Obverse Petit Poem Christopher Francis Bowers Standing Still Trees fall by air, by fire, by hands that grasp in greed. Tall graceful elders sway in gentle breezes imprint on the retina of vernal eyes as shadows on a deep purple sky. Hand on cool glass reaches for the heat of that first star just above the tallest tree. The wish translated through air for something beyond knowing before everything changed. Now eyes well versed wonder out another window far away at that same purpled hour gaze at a starless sky as trees rustle still stand. (Message edited by mjm on July 19, 2005) |
