Reverie

This entry is part 72 of 92 in the series Morning Porch Poems: Spring 2011

Some days, I dream a snatch of a poem
standing on a rocky cliff, waiting to rebuff

a tsunami. Only a little phrase, language
rubbed with the odor of the sea, a spray of oil,

a veil of orange. For now, everything is warm:
too warm, too still, too soft from lying in the sun

with its mouth open, waiting for what brings
the coolness of water. The bird on a twig

with its breast rouged red is a prayer.
The bird is a question, or the bird

is an answer; or the bird is a letter.
It flies away. There’s always change.

 

In response to an entry from the Morning Porch.

Thanks too, to Risa Denenberg for her piece today.

Series Navigation← Aubade, with SparrowMineral Song →

1 Comment


  1. Louisa, what a thrill to see your daily poem responding to my blog today, it is a lovely hybrid of Dave’s morning porch and my tsunami-dream. You both are an inspiration for me to keep working on daily writing. And I love the interaction it occasions.

    Reply

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