Friday 29 May 2009

A Spring

evening stills;

trees - wetted with rain -

stand and face a  purple sun.

 

Listen to calls

pulse - a swell of birds

flickering nuances

cooing, echoing

beating little hearts

 

(inside my skull

I also am wittering and twittering)

 

Overhead; leaves lurch

wave on turning ocean wave

beckoning light: moving church,

urging Nature, lusting life.


7 comments:

  1. love this. terse, and fresh as wet paint.

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  2. Love the short, sharp imagery of the words chosen. Very good indeed.

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  3. I feel the desperation and the frustration between the tortured spaces

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  4. This is marvelous. It left me emotionally moved, brought there by the beautifully express sensuality and detail.

    Carl Sharpe, VerseWrights

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  5. J'aime cette belle Poésie, fraîche et romantique
    Like your Poétry with romantic touch
    Michel Sulpin France

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  6. Lovely, descriptive poem, enjoyed the read.

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