Reeds rise
improbable,
vegetable and vein
where the clouds
have fallen
in them
they are
their own
separate island
a swimmer's pate
bobbing
on the chilly bones
of March
hollow reeds
the wind
whistles through them
a thin high song
rising
Written for OSI, "hollow"
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Copyright
The works and commentary of this blog are the expressly held rights of Anna Norden. Reproduction (print, electronic or any other form) is prohibited without the express written permission of the author.
About Me
- gabrielle
- I live in South Minneapolis with Chris, Emma and Sauvi. We make good trouble together. I am committed to living in such a way as to engender peace and social justice, ecology and sustainability, and cultural, spiritual and artistic expression and exchange. I am interested in dialogue about the core of the human experience.
7 comments:
"bobbing on the chilly bones of March..."
Brilliant. I could see, hear and feel this one through and through.
nice images...well said!
Those reeds shape summer.
Beautiful post.
Lovely imagery in this.
Great diction and flow.Like the bald pate image, too.
Beautiful imagery!
Mad Kane
creatively cool.
love your poetry talent here,
inviting you to join Poets Rally by submitting a poem, any poem is welcome.
hope to see you in.
keep entertaining!
You Rock!
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