Communing with birds
I open my empty palms
expecting metaphors to light
like fireflies on my life line.
From the back of my eyes
I can see the river Delta,
sweet green tarpaulin stretched
across the hemisphere and those
deep murky waters that reflect
a silver sky.
Fleeting memories disperse like clouds.
Just before sleep I sink deep
into illusory havens,
escape the boredom of life.
Metaphor and Allegory by Ju-Yu Chen
In October the pines ooze resin.
Lofty crows flit among rusty leaves.
Wisteria once so pleasant choke the burdened trellis,
their summer petals decomposing on a rusty gate.
From the branches of evergreens huddled lyrebirds
sing cantilenas, create their finest opus.
Below the smokey clouds my hands reach
to the heavens awaiting downy verses to fall
like feathers to my ears.
I remain unwritten, a journal of blank pages,
abandoned by a woman feigning nonchalance.
Today my eyes are a brooding storm,
shades of a deep night without a dawning.
In the forest a nightingale sings her song
somehow her soft refrain makes it easier to bear.
Feel the changing seasons,
the tilt of the Earth’s axis,
the days growing longer as
the night desires to linger.
Summer seemed boundless,
the sundial casts long shadows.
I will miss you with your
brand of ripeness,
August’s lustrous brightness
inciting the senses with fields
afire beneath a summer sky.
Now its wheat is stacked and
bound in lonely batches.
Buried beneath autumn leaves
the earth imbues the darker hues
starless skies of delft blue and
gray swathes that cloak the dawn.
The ash of burning locust wood
shrouds the wilting garden with
the musky scent of autumn ghosts
heralding the chill.