Wednesday, October 19, 2011

Ronde

A fervent, tender wind lifts
the wheel of itself
above the daily body
of everything.
The luminous phrase
the fox hums in her willingness
travels straight into the
ghost of my woodpile heart.
Emptiness, tiger, honeycomb, puddle:
nothing is not you,
unstoppable and attentive,
the lord of gorgeous
little weeds
and ant language.
Everywhere, I hear
the porcelain music
your light unfolds.

lks October 2011

This is another found poem, this one taken from Mary Oliver's New and Selected Poems: Volume Two.
Posted by at 6:27 PM
Labels: , , ,

5 comments:

  3. A beautiful poem that goes so well with the photo. I like the way you've combined silhouette with sparkly light.

    ReplyDelete

  4. Nice, I like Mary Oliver's poetry. Neat photo!

    ReplyDelete

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)

Search This Blog

Loading...

Followers

About Me

My Photo
Georgia, United States
I teach seventh graders writing and grammar and live in the north Georgia mountains just across a small stretch of forest from a pointy old mountain called Sharptop. I write, read, take pictures, meditate a little when I can, play around with creating ephemera from paper and other things, cook, hike, watch wildlife, and collect random bits of interesting oddness, both tangible and abstract. If you want, e-mail me at riverrun67@gmail.com or lksorrells@hotmail.com.