The green world thinks the sun
Into one flower, then outraces
It to the sea in sunken pipes.
But twisting in sleep to poetry
Their blood pumps its flares out
Of earth and scatters them. And
They become, when they shine on
Beauty to honor her, a part of
Her laconic azure, her façade.

—Tom Clark, “Sky”
Art Credit Andrew Bannecker

10:30 am  •  1 February 2013  •  708 notes