The Pond
She dwells in a millpond now,
views the world through
eyes of water,
beneath
reflections
of sky.
When she stands
mud seeps away from around her feet
shifting
unstable.
She has always hidden
her attraction
to pools of darkness
where shadows gather,
now
it seems not to matter so much,
though she understands it less than ever.
Weather doesn't reach her here.
views the world through
eyes of water,
beneath
reflections
of sky.
When she stands
mud seeps away from around her feet
shifting
unstable.
She has always hidden
her attraction
to pools of darkness
where shadows gather,
now
it seems not to matter so much,
though she understands it less than ever.
Weather doesn't reach her here.
posted by burning moon at 6:41 PM
2 Comments:
mmm, nice , very nice, a tasty treat for a ragged bird on a Saturday morning *grin*
love this
"now
it seems not to matter so much,
though she understands it less than ever."
Its astounding to me, how far we can come in some ways, in our journey through this life, and still not comprehend some of the basic things that drive us....
yus dusty bird. and good morning to you on a quiet, sunny Saturday. Nice to see you about. :)
I have just written a birdish sort of a poem. Will post in a minute.
Not about the glossy black birds of course. More about poetry really (I think, lol) God, sometimes I really barely understand what I'm writing about, but it feels right on a subterranean level, y'know?
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