Poetry Friday - Round 'em Up!

A little story tells a tale of flowers and song,
while Life longs for itself through a father's eyes
and a daughter's memories.
A swing in the air; nebulas, the universe locked in
While elsewhere there is tap dancing on the roof.
Greene connection with the dirt and grass,
Teeth, sneakers, foxes and rhyme.
A spiral of translucent words
Leads the brave poet past her fear.
Who but Martha spins her tales
Nearby, the autumn bonfires burn
As fairies dance for Michaelmas
and women, brave and daring leave fragments of themselves
but don't riot.
Bright ladies with cold hands
Face it all alone
The resurrection fern of iron and wine
while the eyes of a hungry dog look on andGod takes time to write a book
in long low notes the path to peace.
A baby cries in a bed of roses
and the impression I get
here in Burma
is that nonsense makes sense as much sense say
as noodles for breakfast do or frogs singing lullabies in a swamp.
Joy such a small word for such a big thing
like geese flying at night beyond the face of fear - a blessing.
Promises on a hillside, the discovery of plums in an icebox
a summer rich oak under which, the degenerate sons
release their Greek and Latin to the brownish beetle
as the King Monarch watches intently and thinks on
the luscious, impeccable fruit of life.
The rabbit in the mirror stops to stare behind daylight
at an army of words
and cowboy poetry rounds up Poetry Friday.