Songs of the harp grass

In the places where the harp grass grows tall
Spindle to spindle, tender gentle
A lone mantis brushes the notes
To a pitch barely audible
Can you hear, listen closely
For he plays the song of the willow
In music to dawn’s blue splendour
Where upon first glint, light
The soft ash laden sky
Tints a faded rose
On the waking of rich earth
First breezes stir the leaves
All the while
The mantis plays his song
Waiting deep entranced
As one by one the peach blossoms
Open, flooding in a flash of colour
But fate does not call, no mate
While he slips to fall
Amongst the spindles.

8 responses to “Songs of the harp grass

  1. This is beautiful Sean, have not seen your post in my reader for a while! I love this phrase, ‘For he plays the song of the willow; In music to dawn’s blue splendour’ Great control as always dear friend! Enjoy the rest of your day!

  2. So much beautiful lies in your words as you bring us close to a lone mantis making melodious song. You’re a keen observer and a talented writer, Sean.

    • Sometimes the music is there, other times, it is often being thought of lost in its sounds as the vanish over the horizon. Thanks Christy.

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