An Evening Poem

“It does not matter what the poem means to me, what does it mean to you? That is what matters. Does it make you feel? Then my work is complete, but yours may have just begun.” RFilos

Chimes Ring

resting my head on a pillow of moss
cool stream speaking to me in bubbles
above sky walkers buzzing new songs
below marching insects circle round me
carrying their daily wages in leafy sacks
clouds fall as descending silver saucers
quietly whispering touching soft my ears
the secrets swirl an hourglass whirlwind
chimes ring calling out return unwanted
to lay here longer the earth stops for me
Art for those outside the stream main!
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