It's Still Life

An Ekphrastic Poem That Wants to be Eden

the scene was set
with veiled scent of orange
and soul of roses
bird song pricked primal sharp

trees draped by Midas-touch
broody birds, some egg-sat
some wishing to be sky-flung
like angels in the air

and they sing and stutter
talk to wind, to leaves
by chance to shake away
their clipped wings while

I pick apples to unshackle
this vague meandering day.

Some artwork is created using Midjourney AI, and is identified as such in the ALT text or captioned. Imagery and poems ©Misky 2023.