He'd chosen wisely for the end. <br />A lazy Sunday afternoon <br />in late October, summer's close, <br />when all the coloured leaves, <br />adrift so briefly for a final glory, <br />had reached their Mother Earth. <br /> <br />He soon would be the straggler, <br />hung just above the sedge, <br />where, in a bare-armed sycamore <br />he'd found his secret womb <br />that, in his dreams was fed <br />by raging waters roaming through <br />the venules of a nursing mother's breast. <br />Framed by the violet of rhododendrum suns.<br /><br />Herbert Nehrlich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/passage-for-one/
