Friday Night Poetry Hour

From Carol:  FNPH is a tradition I started on my very first blog (yes, I’ve had a lot of blogs) — but hey — TRADITION!

But before the poeming commences, a time/space/activity update:  We’re still in the same sweet Little Cabin in the Big Woods, sorting out our internal and external stuff.  Car fixing is mostly done, we’re going to sell/give away more external “stuff” before we leave, and the cat is still in Cat Heaven (body count for yesterday — one jumping mouse, one shrew, and a little tiny weasel — yes, really).

And now, the Friday Night Poem:

This Wood is full of creatures
that I do not see.
This grass, ruffled by the passage
of a million beings.

The Thrushes sing the evening away
into some distance I cannot measure,
and the light becomes blue,
flecked with black.

I keep thinking
if I sit still enough
I’ll know something
soon.

C. Steinel, 6/14/12

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5 Responses to Friday Night Poetry Hour

  1. tava says:

    the night here smells like fresh cut grass
    and promises of summer to yet come to pass
    there is a hint in the air of the warmth yet to come
    fleeting as footsies flying fast on the run
    Frolic and feeding are first on everyones mind
    be it animal kingdom, or all of mankind.

  2. Rita Beyer says:

    Ahhhhhh . . . yes!

  3. ZuVuYah says:

    Resting in the embrace of your {{{beautifully crafted words}}}
    I am calmed~~~~~
    Z

  4. Andrew elf says:

    I really like this poem
    That space a waiting ground
    A call of insanity to reason and to feeling the unseen
    Stretch through much like breathing

  5. Ricki says:

    Are you making any progress yet, towards your new home? You haven’t posted lately. I hope that you’re enjoying yourselves, wherever you are.

Comments are closed.