Monday, March 1, 2010


Paying attention to signs of spring and warm weather, wherever they hide!
This morning outside my window, the birds sing of it--there's a fresh urgency in their cries.

Here's a summer poem from the book:


The wealthy child's entourage
created summertime
from neap tides and bone china,
slim genteel peninsula

between youth, aging
death and birth.
She feels one room's air, then another
where they slept.

Bell calling the servants is
shelved.  Sea and wind scour
her Cape's changing arm--
play at songs on window screens.

More rooms are silent
doors remain closed.
She cuts bittersweet from a wall of stone.
Even the dust is a layer of pity.


JRWilson said...

A portal to the past, dust and artifact
The stillness whispers an invitation
Share my memories, bring your own
Create yourself anew.

HelenQP said...

This is a nice little poem, JRW!! I I'm glad that you stand in the doorway with us.

Anonymous said...

Thanks for sharing this, helen. Lovely!

HelenQP said...

Ryoma, thanks. It's a sad poem, but at least it's a summery sad poem! Hope you get a vacation this year with your new job.