sweeps past your eyes-
did you not see the almost
full moon gazing down at thee?
don't laugh at the soaring-
it reflects all that you are
the mooring of a secret desire
don't cry at the leaving--
it's a road left for those
who know the staying
can be loaded with worn down tires--
guilt exhausts--does become
toxic in a boarded up house
everything else elates, relates, never berates..
so off with the beret, only pray
that the rooster sings soon after
the break of day-
and the miraculous thing- owlets take
wing in the middle of the chorusing-
stripped birch bark, and longing..
for gliding hollowed out canoe
treble notes spiral up as nautilus--while
bass chords descend down slide mountain
osopus river borders paramour gushes..
tubing while davening at big indian
tolerance reminds us to let out
the sail--for the north wind does bite
allowing the moon light to encircle--
as the owl and the pussycat ferry--
to freedom, sans fanfare...
all cozy and bright
Kate Lamberg
September 18, 2013
2 comments:
The photo here is phenomenal! And the poem a wonderful accompaniment!
Many thanks, Gail.
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