Words fall like the last brown leaves
of autumn. Slowly. The forest from epic to haiku.
Between letting go and landing. Where are we then?
Let’s tap our feet to the woodpecker’s beat.
Watch. Wait. Maybe dance to keep ourselves warm.
November 17, 2012 by chrisbkm
Words fall like the last brown leaves
of autumn. Slowly. The forest from epic to haiku.
Between letting go and landing. Where are we then?
Let’s tap our feet to the woodpecker’s beat.
Watch. Wait. Maybe dance to keep ourselves warm.
Chris,
The muse of the natural world makes your poetry sing.
Beautiful passages.
Tom
Thanks Tom… from the mushrooms, moss and me. Hope all is well in your quieter than usual world.
Chris
Wonderful words – wonderful theme – wonderful verse. Love it!
Thank you!
I loved the question, and the poem’s rhythm, and tapping your feet to the woodpecker’s beat. Wonderful!
Thanks Linda.
Love love love. Dancing to keep warm. Perfect tempo, too! I was tapping my foot along the rhythm before I got to the last couple of lines.
Right on! Thanks Tori.
Lovely, natural and powerful
Thanks!