Printer Friendly

From Nomad Poems: We Are Seed.

 We are seed. Or maybe arrow, target, punctuation,
density to hold. We are our favorite drinking cup,
sometimes filled, sometimes emptied of our resonance,
duende, fight. We are also elegant and ornamental lack,
erased when trees of oranges or bright autumn skies
pass clear on through. Even more invisible when winter
sinks so low the hills resemble horses who have lost the race,
heads bent down to drink in green and disillusioned grass.
I love their lesson: how to suffer failure without shame.
Hills, horses, none remember lining up at starting line.
Joined with Earth on lockdown, hunkered down to work.
COPYRIGHT 2018 Poetry Atlanta, Inc.
No portion of this article can be reproduced without the express written permission from the copyright holder.
Copyright 2018 Gale, Cengage Learning. All rights reserved.

Article Details
Printer friendly Cite/link Email Feedback
Author:Trimble, Patti
Publication:Atlanta Review
Article Type:Poem
Date:Sep 22, 2018
Words:129
Previous Article:From Nomad Poems: Set Down Set Down.
Next Article:Fernandina, Galapagos Islands.
Topics:

Terms of use | Privacy policy | Copyright © 2020 Farlex, Inc. | Feedback | For webmasters