Ode On A Vacant Woodlot Love

By John Delonas

Cascading panels
Honduras mahogany
Splinters blond and rosewood
All hurried and caught up
In the light flickering through
The evening woods.
Once past the soft thicket,
Her hair fell like a Bedouin tent
(Like silken sails from a
Vessel broached).
The noise, traffic, and lights
Propel the frightened helmsman
Through the rocks, twigs, and brakes;
A passenger unsighed for,
Debarking with a push
That sends the pilotless vessel
Aground in the sodden brush.

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