If that was to be the day:
some mist of rain
barn swallows darting
clouds riled and curdling
jack pines complaining to the wind,
at least there was a fragrance in the air
to remind us of the evening calm,
when the sun becomes a stock photograph
and we are silhouettes cut from paper
waiting for church bells to chime.
That Day
29 Friday Mar 2013
Posted poems
in
ann said:
‘clouds riled and curdling…’
this is the english i miss when i’m teaching it. thanks for being a constant reminder of what a beautiful language it is.
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Ronald E. Shields said:
i have been thinking about this comment and it may be the nicest one i have received yet…so thank you
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ladysighs said:
We live on a bit of a hill and when the wind comes everything and everybody complains. It is like a living creature.
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Ronald E. Shields said:
“It is like a living creature”…referring to the wind/hill is the germ of a poem.
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ladysighs said:
You mean I have finally caught the disease of your poetry?
I must get inoculated.
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Ronald E. Shields said:
Do not worry, my poetry is like a mild cold that passes quickly and does not leave any lasting scars.
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Ina said:
🙂 Love it
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Ronald E. Shields said:
Thank you Ina.
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