In her eyes,
green hills roll,
woodsmoke-tinge
grays the edge,
reminding
lonesome hearts
of wood stoves,
wool blankets,
and stillness.
Verdancy.
Pray the turn
of seasons
does not urge
me to rise,
averting
longing eyes
from winding
roads and flecks
of yellow
flowers’ gold.
Urging me.
Urgency.
In her eyes,
the heartseed
roots and grows.
© CG Tenpenny, 2022.
Art generated by AI.
