I'm as plain and brown as mud in March.
I'm a stone in a river; I don't move much.
I'm the dull-bound book with the faded cover,
But my pages will call you to next and another.
See the yard all strewn with last year's leaves--
See the unassuming chair, the sparrow, and...me
Dreaming at mid-day-- as roots are, too,
Seeming still-- but restless and drawn to do
Our turning and rising as the season commands
with sure sense of continuance--like ampersands.
For Fireblossom Friday : Poetic imagery. I'm hosting at Toads. Come by and join us!