The sunshine is in slanted rhyme
with our gazes. Leaves, broad and green,
brown and lean, are assonant and
consonant with the gripping grass.
Blended they recall our shy bend
of fingers, held mid-reach. Murmur-
mothering creek echoes the pool
and flow of voices carried off.
A day walks by us on bare feet.
This season, a coupling couplet,
teaches us the chorus we’ll bear,
repeating its re-treating song.
4 comments:
Hello Francis,
A very nicely penned tribute to the world of poetry itself.
All the different guises accounted for!
Hope all is good with you, now that spring is here!
Best wishes, Eileen
nice work francis. enjoyed this.
@Eileen I'm doing pretty well, though our spring seems to be slipping back into winter. I hope you're well too.
@Gerry Thanks... and I've been enjoying the Astral Nomad's travel log. One day I'd like to make a similar trip.
francis,
i read birthright...some beautiful imagery and lines...the story itself is very interesting...jacob's relationship with gregor(however less mentioned) is very interesting...also the way he is rather forced into accepting it...you describe those sudden scenes of panic and hysteria very well..."They’re not so ugly when you get used to them"..i remembered this...in all i enjoyed it...cheers
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