hitalot879 | Poetry Vibe
hitalot879
This poet practices good karma and posts comments 23500
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a bit of prairie to seed that other earth I hold inside my mind

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Epiphany

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Views: 274

 

It clings to the cliffed shore,
to the wintered face of the thistle path,
to the fingers of the old man's glove
as he waves his memory homeward

In that breath between come and go
she moves up from the bay;
gold turns her stride,
the line of her dress,
the soft sea pulling at her feet

When he reaches out
and the frail birds fly
and the sun and the sky
have married deep into the sea, it clings

Even as his shadow threads retreat,
it clings, even now as it dissolves to mist

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