Lines Like Meanings
I improvised some lines late one evening in summer. My metaphor was a long slow road, filled with solitude, which leads nowhere but somewhere.
Then in my changing picture I found new nestings. A square where people overflowed expectantly. And their poem voices sounded like songs rippling cedars and streaking sky.
Now out my window past late afternoon’s shadowed fields, buildings flicker, rail tracks meet and divide. Cathedral of sound.
And in the forest are wild bees.
July 2016-2022