a window is a
peripheral porthole
into sunny space
where trees play angels
with green wings
and beckon eyes to dance;
long as we can touch
the glass, we are holding
hands with possibility
drawing in a spoon of breath;
it is the least of blest
to revive a smothered soul
freed through a peeking view
and all we have to do is
clean it from time to time.
Comments
1 - 5 of 5
-
100th Hoodwink
This is a beautiful poem, and the imagery is just incredible. The world always looks better through freshly cleaned glass. I love this!!!
Love & Light
Debbera
Thank you, for all you do here on AP...
-
-
Ohhhhh..so kind of you. Liked your read and view. Thank you so much!
-
-
As ever, I love reading the words you choose in the order you chose to place them.
Very well done!
-
Ah Ha! Talented and very witty verse you've woven here. I loved the metaphoric inclusion of nature as seen through that portal.
-
This is sweet and beautiful and profound all at the same time -- it works on so many different levels. I love the lines:
where trees play angels
with green wings
and beckon eyes to dance;
What wonderful imagery and metaphor. This one is gently stunning. The impact of it sneaks up on the reader. You reveal some simple, important truths, in a fairly indirect way, that makes them all the more profound. No one will hear you shout, but your whispered word has every ear.
I also love the lines:
long as we can touch
the glass, we are holding
hands with possibility
You have realized this metaphor so perfectly that it almost ceases to be a metaphor and has become the accepted way of visualizing this concept. This is very impressive. What a talent you have!
CaliOkie
Adding your comment:
1 - 5 of 5
