Tuesday, January 3, 2012

the pussy willow muse

uplifted in Finnish clay
splayed
where the edge of light
cannot hide, and dust
cannot change it

3 comments:

  1. My favourite stone so far. I will be delicately touching those lightly furred blooms and that cool clay throughout the day.

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  2. Kay, ditto what Brian said. And I think this poem works effectively on two levels, literal and metaphoric.

    Beautifully crafted.

    Chen-ou

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