Late summer wind, she breathes casting
a spell of gratitude:
The rice has grown
long and rich as a young bride’s hair,
the net has captured
many fish armored in blue or silver,
and fog has wrapped its sash
around the black pine yearning
to wear the breath of gods and ancestors.
Late summer wind, she leaves lighting
the sweet tinder in our lungs;
and we kindle song.
..
A song for summer leaving or autumn on the way, your gentle wind kindles a song in me, too. Thank you for this visual treat on a Sunday afternoon.
ptc
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Wendy,
This poem is another grand experience for the reader, created by your pen.
It puts me right there, on the cusp of summer and autumn…that sense of
anticipation, that sense of excitement. Your poem is as grand as the season
itself.
Thank you !
Sarah
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Dear Ptc and Sarah
Your beautiful comments are so deeply appreciated! I am glad you enjoyed this one.
Take care
Wendy
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