Thursday, June 26, 2008

click to blow


and a poem to go with:

petals on the wind

There are no more petals to be counted
No more he loves mes
No more he loves me nots
All those yellow doubts
Transformed into silvery strands
Tiny parachutes of memory
Waiting for the wind
Or the restless dreamy breath
Of a young girl’s spinning wish for her heart to stop
And free her from the stem, the stamen, and the story
About to unfold

Flowers know how to live.

But we,
mere mortals-

we struggle just to reach the surface of the soil


Kate said...

This is a particularly good poem, Sue. You're so gifted!

Anonymous said...

I love the poem with that!

Jim Thomsen said...

I suspect we can all relate to the last line. But I hope we reconsider it in the context of the lines above.

I like that you make me reconsider.