Summer Evening
summer evening
the poet tells me
who I am
the poet tells me
who I am
blackbird song
blackbird song as far as the road goes between the hills
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Renga
I don't feel guilty, she says-- winces at the thunder peeling open the flower petals hide-and-seek the children unearth old bones the stepping stones underwater drowned moon the taste of his apology pressing leaves between swollen fingers the empty space in father's gloves autumn ends my heart so full it hurts after you dry blood at the corner of my mouth cool rain kissing the drops from you cheek salt taste on this slow breeze the smell of clams over the horizon desert flowers the moon opens a lotus blossom summer stillness ripples in the puddle of oil the tiny pebbles in my sandal straps heat wave black water in the granite quarry spotted the wings of the ladybird on the tulip petal the drop of dew on my fingertip spinning the globe he asks me what I want the world as it was yesterday budding rose the smell of tomorrow's rain capless the waves far from shore she borrows my scarf new coolness a red thread behind the sled runners an old dress on a new date-- new novel, too
Comments
_As a 'contrary...' my views are often more positive than any definition might suggest. This, a reflective echo of your good post today. _m
soft rain
my inner poet wonders
who i am
I hope this post didn't come across as negative! It truly was a moment of self-discovery aided by a poet's work, rather than a poet being obnoxious or pedantic.
~Megan