One Morning in May

By Silver Spun Sand
Sat, 24 May 2014
- 1040 reads
7 comments
I watch the tall trees bend in the wind,
at the far end of the lawn; the pampas-grass –
stems bent and broken, golden plumes adrift
like the manes and tails of tethered horses,
the air, alive with an avalanche of brown
and orange leaves from the compost heap
swirling in a vortex –
a swarm of angry bees and the forest heaves
and swells as storm-whipped seas. Watch clouds
scud by like the tattered mainsail of a yacht.
A jagged flash of light coruscates the sky
as thunder rumbles endlessly. And you and I,
in our pitch-dark house as the current dims
then flicks and fails, listen as you ask me,
“What about the nightingale and heron
in this fire-tinged dawn, and the lapwing
and sandpiper too?' and kiss your hand
as you raise it to touch this wild, May
morning with your fingertips.
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Comments
Such beauty of words flowing
Such beauty of words flowing with almost-rhymes and spilling with original description. Loved the last stanza.
Bee
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Some wonderful metaphors in
Permalink Submitted by skinner_jennifer on
Some wonderful metaphors in this poem Tina. This is true genius, I don't say that lightly.
One of your best.
Jenny.
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Hi Tina,
Permalink Submitted by skinner_jennifer on
Hi Tina,
I completely understand what you mean about life getting in the way.
That's fine.
Jenny.
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