Everything beautiful rings,
vibrates as a pan flute
echoing across the hills,
as the sunset pours itself out
of its last vestiges of paint.
Everything beautiful disturbs,
like a kitten
amongst freshly ordered clothes,
that we need to start again
building piles,
restoring the ordinary.
Or the stop start of the heart
at the flash of a scene against the
backdrop of the mind,
catching our breath,
sending us sideways.
Yes, everything beautiful
leaves its intimate mark,
carries with it the possibility of
forfeiture,
even before it arrives,
starts.
Just as the sunset now,
imbued with soft hues,
rings,
melts into the night.
Ana Lisa de Jong
Living Tree Poetry
August 2021
Living Tree Poetry 