Читать книгу In the Same Place - N. Thomas Johnson-Medland - Страница 8

In the abundance of

heavy fogged moisture

lay the overwhelming smell

of verbena and phlox.

The very air

scintillating and

alive with the ivory

and lavender hues

hidden behind

a floral aroma—

a tapestry

for the nose.

The road winds through

this place—these

places—

along the river towns

of Pennsylvania—

building up the

storehouse of pleasantries

from the onslaught of Spring.

Spring,

it creeps itself

into this

place slowly;

moving ever on

through the mountains’

alluviations and

foothills. Seeking

to inhabit the

higher places of the

river valley.

This plague of

color and

deviation

from dirt

and

bark

smites the crenulations of

these crenelated

places each year.

For, this sickness;

for,

this cancerous

ravishing force of greening

newness and the bud

I shall find a deep

seated thanks

and

praise for this.

This is

where

I am

transformed.