a message for you.
please excuse my dust as this blog site is still under construction.
we are all poets in this place.
(posted on Monday, May 4 by eii wyy nae.)
Yesterday morning I had a conversation with a friend about poetry.
I thought about it the rest of the day,wondering if poetry consisted only of words,
but deciding it did not. Not really.
These flowers above, laid out at my feet, beckoning me onward, forward, the rain dripping from overhead leaves ~
Surely poetry. Surely.
Standing in this very spot, I silently watched the trees where last year the owls lived. Five owls on a limb? Oh, surely poetry.
Surely.
These catawba blossoms, and stalks of blue morning-blooming flowers, the only colors against all the green, the yet-to-bloom hydrangeas and Turkish caps - a memory of last year, a promise held for this year.
Surely that promise is poetry.
The trees of spring are empty now; pear, tulip, dogwoods. Surely that emptiness is poetry also, the leftover blossoms here & there, just words of a different language. A language taught by the wind, by the rain, the sun, the storms. A language whispered at night by the moon, the stars, the clouds drifting across the darkness.
I plant my feet in a field of poetry and take a step. And then I am walking, running with the poetry against my skin.
Signed with love,
the diarykeeper, ' my charliegirl.
Labels: hippie., silly politics
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