Thursday, March 10, 2016

Pussy Willow Poem

YOUR WORDS

our words are born, not spoken.  Dimensional, soft voweled words,   palpable to the eye or to the fingertip ...   exquisitely curved, as the young that wildflowers conceive.    Often I have watched your lips shape words  and your tongue nudge them out like small birds   not certain of their wings.  Your sweetest words   are those shaped ovally  like plums or wild birds' eggs.  The long bright ribbons you laugh  the multitudes of hyacinth and bluebells.    When I see words like soft gray catkins I know  they are of romance whatever else my ears register.  Your mouth is like the flesh of a ripe fig,  I often want to take your words unsaid.  The brown honey-bear slips his red tongue into   the nest of sleeping bees.  Slurping out the honey as they sleep.  The sweet natural taste.  The pussy-willow feel of your words   is lovelier than their shape or music.    COPYRIGHT 2012 ACB  

Copyright © Athena Beauchamp | Year Posted 2014 

No comments: