POEM: SILVER LINING / WINTERWOOD / PEAR TREE
Like a silver spoon in soup
The spirit of your weathered work
Red and glowing
New and knowing
Arriving at the start
And the intersecting bits bode well
To reveal the tanned
Tread of the wind
Dust and clouds
Silk and shrouded
Roads know where to begin
What are the chances your novel
Descends from precipitation
To the right hands?
Busy and braided
Time has raided
Our cupboards of all quiet
What is the way to regain
The indigo insight
Our kind has lost?
Gathered and green
Young and teeming
With hunger guiding us to the end
Extending from the leftmost
Space, I can see blankets
Of pine needles
Laying on an earth table
With the most fragile and stern
Stance, the winter trees ponder
To mine with roots
Or turn to catch rare glimpses of sunlight
Bark prints a crackly gap patterns
Ascending to the uttermost
Beyond my eye I look up
To see
Where the tree and air
Is thin
I am stuck in a moment
Of identity
Seeing how much space
Is left for me
Have I been consumed by my
Prickly pears
Dangling from my
Brown tree?
Or am I shifting to grow
And know how to house
The rarest of birds
Hunting for shelter
From the predator
Fixed on their meal?
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Extraordinary stuff beautifully done nice poem : )
Thank you @blazing