REFLECTION
Lost Poem
Tell me
how the poem
hidden in
the wine cup’s
dew
would rather
remain there
than grace
the empty
lines
of my pad
Tell me
how the poem
hidden in
the wine cup’s
dew
would rather
remain there
than grace
the empty
lines
of my pad
DECK CHAIR
Others have sat there,
hooked a casual heel on rungs,
looked out with shade-drawn eyes
across a landscape where blades
of green tongued-meadow
roll down to tree-line's conference.
Others have sat there
in the same melt of warm crayolas
and the puff dance of dandelions,
watched tall pines brush their long hair
before the blue mirror of sky,
and did not write a poem.
From the same chair, she has entered
the isolation of a ray's last endeavor
to greet her child-soul, her father-strength,
and has come face to face
with words that, like a flock
of homing egrets at dusk,
shaped themselves
into poems.
Published, Galaxy
Others have sat there,
hooked a casual heel on rungs,
looked out with shade-drawn eyes
across a landscape where blades
of green tongued-meadow
roll down to tree-line's conference.
Others have sat there
in the same melt of warm crayolas
and the puff dance of dandelions,
watched tall pines brush their long hair
before the blue mirror of sky,
and did not write a poem.
From the same chair, she has entered
the isolation of a ray's last endeavor
to greet her child-soul, her father-strength,
and has come face to face
with words that, like a flock
of homing egrets at dusk,
shaped themselves
into poems.
Published, Galaxy