PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I am East Coast dreaming, in

this place where the leaves are drifting free

and the trees are rendered bare and hungry

Starving for the coming rains

The Atlantic is caught in the wind

and we all smell its lovers in the air

And down by the river

I know,

I could spill my soul on its banks

Write sonnets in the mud

Cross the surfacing rocks

and they would sing

for only me



In the fields, the flowers are at war

They waltz and tango

It is their romance, this wind

All is well, in the rustle of movement

Here, in my Virginia