The moon drops one or two feathers into the fields.
The dark wheat listens.
Be still.
Now.
There they are, the moon's young, trying
Their wings.
Between trees, a slender woman lifts up the lovely shadow
Of her face, and now she steps into the air, now she is gone
Wholly, into the air.
I stand alone by an elder tree, I do not dare breathe
Or move.
I listen.
The wheat leans back toward its own darkness,
And I lean toward mine.
~© James Wright~
~Images are © Trina Drake, unless otherwise specified~
2 comments:
Thank you, Joe. You're a very good friend to me. I appreciate you offering your ear. I may just need to take you up on that one of these days. Seems like life gets a little overwhelming at times. (Lately, it has been one of those times.)
Thanks for the words about my Mom, too. She seems to be doing ok right now. She might get to come home tomorrow, depending on what today's test results turn out to be. We'll see in the morning, I guess.
Again, I hope your Dad gets well soon. *lots of hugs*
I should be here most of the day and all of tomorrow evening. If my Mom gets released from the hospital, I may go get her (If my sis doesn't.) I have a few errands to run, too. If you call and I don't answer, that's where I am. Shouldn't be gone too awful long, though. Just try again if I don't answer the first time around. :)
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