whisk of straw broom-wind,
wild and with attempt
to put out fires
she draws skirt between her legs,
tucks it in her ample waistband
and shooshes leaves
like loose-feathered chickens,
like naughty children
playing Halloween tricks,
from the doorstep
pink cheeks painted
on cheeky horizon
that mumbles itself awake,
eyes squinted, bitterly,
at such colors
of last sputtering goodbyes
leaves scatter like frightened doomsdayers:
The sky is falling!
The sky is falling!
and run for safe landings
beneath skirts of Mother trees
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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I too love this one
if I think about it, I realize, the broom is one of the few things that women still use today.
It has changed a little bit
but the concept is the same
not many other things you can say that about
this is the perfect autumn poem
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There is a constancy in Creation that seems to comfort, even when Nature is under attack. Intriguing images here, and a smoothness like the brush of broom straws, clearing away the poetic unnecessary, and leaving us with a crisp, clean reading. Nicely done, as always. Love that border pic, BTW, that is incredible!
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Picture Perfect!
Fantastic imagery! This is an incredibly creative and imaginative poem! Well done! -
I love this moment, seasonal for sure!...your imagery, personification, similes, all make this poem such an enjoyable read
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