These mountains make me know how very small
and alone I am in the blue,
forest green expanse where pretty birds
are singing but almost so far away
I can hardly hear them.
I gave you to the ground beneath them,
like one would fold a beebee downed
sparrow in a beautiful handkerchief
and placed in soft soil, dug dearly.
The clouds do not hover here where
high peaks are hunched into halcyon horizon.
Even they know enough to ease off.
Frowning eagle grips a branch
in preparation for the slightest slip
in courage’s stance, dallying in dread
like a rabbit needing substance rather than
concentrating on shadows that hang
on salacious spiral. A press-down promise
brings me back, again and again.
Here in the loamy shade of pine tree,
I am closer to dust than moss.
Far-off, a mournful cry of a sister,
levels out loneliness. There are more
of us here to know more about lonely
than there are predators, perching
on a peeled back sky parting bright eyes
from unmindful sky-scanning drop
of wet eyelash. We are balanced
in the beauty of death and dying,
in sharp eyed predictions and film-eyed
forgetfulness happening in the pocket
of such purple majesty.
In a list
A contest entry
- 15 minutes - 3 by Melissa Gayle.
300 points, ended January 31, 2007, 15 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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This is absolutely beautiful.
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"Far-off, a mournful cry of a sister,
levels out loneliness. There are more
of us here to know more about lonely
than there are predators..."
Sighhh...Ohhh, how I love your words, my Sister...You define the inherent Beauty that others cannot even seem to see...Gorgeous penning, my dear Friend...Good luck in Melissa's contest...
Wanda
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What a serene place you have made this out to be. A divine majesty it is.
Soulful Woman
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