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April 26, 2008
Soon
the wind will shift, run fingertips
through the long grasses, combing them
in feathered, cat’s-pawed fields.
I will plant trees, an orchard
at the forest verge, will feed the deer
on mast, will prune the watersprouts
for kindling. A cultivated wild,
a sweet disorder carefully distilled
and in spring the wind will shift,
will drive fallen plum blossoms
before the livid dawn.
Posted by: Chris Clarke
Note: A database glitch in 2008 ate a bunch of archived comments. Don't be offended if yours isn't here, or confused if the conversation seems disjointed. Thanks!
Gorgeous, bro, feels like a Chinese rhythm and theme. Who you been chillin with?
By: By Kai on 2008 04 26
I love this.
By: By nina on 2008 04 27
Categories:
Poetry
