Dangled Art

What art doth dangle here from ancient trees?
If art, indeed, these twisted visions be.
Or could they merely be some strange bird’s nest,
providing airy comfort, at its best?
Nay, these proclaim a man’s hand, I attest,
these wicker baskets hanging in the breeze.

Oh, subtle is the art’s imagination,
adorning local riverside pathways.
They dwell in places that hold high our gaze,
and render these rare forms appreciation.
So Gaze!

 

(re-written I Sprung Rhythm)

 

Art doth dangle here in ancient trees.

If art, these twisted visions be!

Could they merely be some strange bird’s nest,

Providing airy comfort at its best?

Nay, these proclaim a man’s hand, I attest.

Man made these wicker baskets, hanging in the breeze.

Oh, subtle is the Art’s imagination,

Adorning local riverside pathways

In places holding high our gaze,

And render these rare forms appreciation.

Gaze, Gaze on!

 

 

Synergy of Poetry and Verse. Author, Poet, Photographer

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