8.17.2012

Magpie Fri.





detail from image by Francesca Woodman



Beckoning


I put my ear

against tomorrow

listening for a sound

a beat, a sign, the wave

of drumming fingers

to a future song

and I can almost hear

to sing along

but almost says it hasn't

quite become, half-born

a foot, one hand, a hint

and who knows what

will happen when we get

to then and there


--smh






 I know, I know -- still AWOL, because I've been sicker than sick all week.  Brought back a nasty little souvenir of some kind from Phoenix.  But I did manage this.  Thanks to Tess at Magpie Tales for luring me to the keyboard.  Click over there now to explore a hundred more...









6 comments:

Helen said...

I like how you isolated the shell, made your poem reflect what shells represent.

Lynda Halliger-Otvos said...

As a conch shell lover, you complete my morning. The words you write evoke vistas yet to see, paths still to traverse and all the love still there to find.

Thanks, Susan.

Bee's Blog said...

The unknown is not always something to be fearful of. You made it exciting.

Allie said...

Lovely magpie and I hope you feel better soon, Susan!

Brian Miller said...

so true...lovely opening lines...and we know not what it will look like until it is born...upon us...

Pam said...

Great matching of words and image.
Get well soon Susan.

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