Thursday, September 1, 2016

Poem: The Wounded Heart


This morning early, as I go to greet the sun,
the fountain stops and startles me
with its cover of  jeweled web .
 
It is woven above, straight across,
shielding and protecting,
invisible at first glance,
it confuses dimensions and trembles.

Light passes through, and air.
Sounds and scents slip past,
the scratch and whir of insects,
distant calls of coyotes and calves.

Crack of thunder rumbles through, 
and both color and shadow reflect.
However, the rain is caught and held apart, 
gilded by the slanting light of day.











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