The shrouded reflections
of leaves rustling in the wind
are ripples in a nonexistent pool
of water on the wall
or heat rising off the pavement
in Summer's wondrous illusion
that calms my soul and opens my heart
ckiMay3 1988
It is hard to believe I wrote that twenty-three years ago, but that the words have somehow remained so fresh in my mind.
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2 comments:
I've been reading a lot of poetry lately.... Frost, Keats, Dickinson, and Elizabeth Barrett-Browning. I admire the ability to paint a clear mutli-faceted picture with so few words. Well Done!
K:
Thank you, that was what I was attempting to do, with as few words as possible.
I think most of the stuff that I wrote way back when, in my teens and early twenties, had more structure and cadence... rhyming couplets and such, so this one was a departure.
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