Do not bruise your knees
on the glass of melted
desert sand. You can
truly walk beyond this
valley to a welcoming,
warming sun, as winter
reaches out, embraces
you in soft white arms,
cools your burning skin.
When the Spring tide
returns under a bone
white moon the desert will
be released, become the
oasis it was meant to be
-a harbor for song birds,
gulls, crows, for the wild,
flying call of the loon
-a garden for colors
that cannot be tamed by
the eye, where only
weeds are well behaved.
A place to rest, a place
to heal; where beauty
stretches beyond the
the elegant fingers of
shoreline, and carries
you to a clean clear
horizon, where blues
converge and you are
brought once again to
your knees in wonder
at everything you see.
This Oasis
03 Sunday Feb 2013
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all i can say is wow. there’s a great flow in this poem and i love the sound usage in the words (“welcoming,warming sun, as winter…”)
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thank you Jack for taking the time to read and comment.
ron
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Hi Ron. I also love the flow of this poem, and I found the opening and closing lines particularly striking.
Owain
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thank you Owain. i must credit Andrea Gibson’s “Sleep” for the genesis of that first line and Mary Oliver’s “Wild Geese” for the whole idea of the poem in the first place.
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its a lovely poem Ron…
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Thank you so much Katrina.
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you’re welcome Ron…
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