it is not spring
or summer here
so the words i bring
cannot be butterflies
or hummingbirds
& i must tell my love
in leaves read not from the bottom of a cup
but raked up, crackling unpredictable patterns
hoarded with chestnuts and acorns
against winter hunger
adding one more truth
to that pile
even in the wee hours your are a masterful word spinner.
Thanks, Audra–my brain was spinning something awful last night 😉
Pingback: IT IS NOT SPRING OR SUMMER HERE | edge of frog
A link to this poem can now be found at ‘edge of frog’
http://edgeoffrog.wordpress.com/
This piece radiates warmth. I could hover my hands over your words and they would melt to the bone. I love the richness of your verse.
oh, gosh, thanking you!
Love it..imagine me screaming that lol…love it Susan
Boomie–thank you!
Join me for tea? 🙂
sure–want me to spin your cup for you?
please do my poetess~ Thank you mam 🙂
🙂
Nice… love how you ended it.
Thanks, Nelle.
exhale…
perfectly beating my heart.
Oh, thank you, Mari…