It grows silent
in places where air is
unstirred
making itself instant
in those serene
shadows.
Feel it, velvet of miniature,
its own thick forest of rootless
piling one filament
on the next rhizoid
to build leaf, seta then capsule
more and more of its fairy carpet.
It arches up from cracks
green kittens
softer than mist
and as elegant.
very lovely
ReplyDeleteThe world seen from below.
ReplyDeleteI love these moss poems. I stopped and pondered some moss on my daily rounds because of your Moss poetry, Lucy.
ReplyDelete