i don't know how many of you saw my last post about the farm house coffee shop that i have started to use as my hang-out/writing-room, but i decided the poem with it (that had already taken six years to get to that point) was horrible, after all, and in need of revision straight-away. so here's the new version.
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neath canopies of storm
trees
dressed in green
and yellow leaves
on branches
that bear them
hang
near the ground
around me
with hands
in my coat
warming fingers
set my cup
on the lawn
in the bluegray
and green
whispering
passers
breathe
in the haze
smoke
with rain
catching
dreams
in nets
it's raining
in my cup
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I forgot to comment on this poem before, but those two last lines are possibly my favourite lines of poetry EVER. I think I like them so much because they caught me by surprise.
Still loving Wisconsin, even with a gimpy arm?
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