(Wrote this poem a while back, but in any case was inspired by a handful of *certain* poets who have made such an impact on my poetry to this day. Can you guess who they are? Enjoy!)
Boundless and beautiful, the wild gardens
echo a prairie tune, lonely from days
of teeming thoughts that wander by-and-by.
Such days I wonder at creation, hands
that shape earth to man, and beast to nature.
In the woods, the tiger devours the lamb
whole, holy water by the Abbey. I
will meet you there, Sister, before the night
falls like a tomb, consumed by the stars’ glow
upon a hot summer’s day— and we will
flock to the mighty bank, hear the churn of
the grey-muted ferries by the Thames, our
thoughts bending to the sweeping August wind
above the land— still, resting on my mind.
— The Finicky Cynic
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