Monday, November 21, 2005

In summer the song sings itself
yet in December the river grows quiet-- the trees lonely.

No one would notice the blue if not for emptiness.
Silence, a voice without letters.

If we took lessons from the lark we’d leave.
In our mouths we’d place the last feather, hold it in our teeth.

Memory has no room for winter, the whole season forgets.
Even you, my darling do not remember.

If my name found the feather, if in your mouth
was a nest, we'd begin.


Artichoke Heart said...

How beautiful. Really. Just stunning.

Suzanne said...

T, I keep coming back to this. Lovely, lovely.

early hours of sky said...

Lee, thank you. I didnt like it much yesterday but it's growing on me.

Suzanne, I MISS YOU. Your boys may be adjusting better than I because I miss your words. Kiss that Emily baby for me.

Lorna Dee Cervantes said...

Nice poem!

early hours of sky said...

thanks Lorna, happy turkey day!!!