Smoke Rings Hue
In the sand hill cranes
My old timer sees
Backgammon penitentiary
Sloping sky and breeze
Canyon run facility
The outback closes saloon
Aces and traces are significant
Sagebrush owns the moon
Walk with me on a meadow
Then lay down with this guise
All that is forsaken moon dust
Will never again be denied
It is among the lost hedge groove
Where the Lepidoptera do reveal
Naked in the sacred orchard
All have tried to justly conceal
Open now to the wayward bison
This sky-filled dream coming true
Among the dancing shifting visions
I foresee within the smoke rings hue
Metaphorical Poetry: Victoria L. McColley
Always,
Deborah
Vickie, your poem
bringing sugarplum visions
forming rings of many hues
Lady Vivian
Yours xoxo
Ron
George