Saturday, November 21, 2009

A Couple Less Grim

October 23, 1980

                    Marigold war in the yard
                    Evening falls
                    While children laugh
                    And leap
                    In the twilight's
                    Graceful sweep.
                    We seek in the darkness
                    Bits of gold
                    To toss at each one's
                    Flying hair.
                    The smell of marigolds
                    Scent the air.
                    We lazy down
                    In Autumns unmowed grass
                    And swing feet
                    In precision sweeps
                    To the musical clouds
                    Flowing out from within.
                    Deep sea sky lowers
                    And Mother calls us in.


I wrote this poem today to describe a small adventure and the impact it had on me:

I walk down to the corner bread store
in the breeze whipping
my hair,
and the maroon and gold leaves
tumble behind my trail
as I walk past the marsh
in the hollow;
and the geese and the chickens
in desperation
run for cover,
wings flapping, rowing,
as they dive under the fir tree's
beckoning boughs the dark,
comforting cave of cover
where they peck for the bits of
life sustenance.
I see the hawk
circling in the distant sea of gray
looking in vain;
and the chain on the deserted
flag pole
snaps and flaps
as it tries to escape
its boundaries.


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