by Leona Mason Heitsch
reflected from the pools
while children play
in leaf tones yellow-green
and sky tones
blue and silver gray.
Blessings...I sit enforested
and praise the primal one,
the silent raining down of sun.
Scarecrow Prophet Cast across the late-toned landscape,
useless tatter, twice disowned,
I sketch a line that wind has honed,
a portrait ragged, elemental, almost sleek
and bear a tale that streaming air,
unrobed, can't speak.