May Second
How early this time
the shadow-laced sunlight
mimics the angle of autumn,
just as the leaves locate
their optimal, unspotted green
and the hay ripens
for first mowing;
How it plays nervously
across the desk unnoticed
until I pause, lay down the book
and concentrate this memory
of anticipation that allows me
into each succeeding season.
I enjoyed your poem. I'm glad to see people with passion in one field expressing that passion artistically. We need not seperate our different means of expression in order to be accurate. In fact, as any poet will tell you, more can be communicated through metaphor than direct language. I just found your blog, but I'll keep reading.
ReplyDeleteThanks,