|
Of an Age |
Rustle of prehistoric leaves
in the wind, yellow
as only gingko leaves
are yellow, predating dinosaurs
fossils in tar pits.
Shaped like fans, lullabies
to dreams of china, of silk robes
worn by some dynasty's princess
long before my Western mind
formed in an ancestral womb.
Will my great-grandchildren
see them fanning in the breeze?
Or masses of butterflies,
sulphurs fluttering
in the face of extinction...
copyright 2008
Deborah P
Kolodji |
