Breath-taken, By The Unusual

 

 

the unsualThe dogwood blossoms are late this year. A cold month

sulking in rain;

 

but those on the Joshua trees

ornament the field with white finials. Art

emphasizing an odd but ancient species — whose leaves

were once sacrificed for rope and baskets. Who now become

humbly beautiful as they hoist

their limbs to grasp — something echoed in the wind and sky:

 

a song, a scent, an instinct. The random shift

of rocks in the canyon or stars in the desert night. And behind

the perennial vines on my garden wall, a bird’s shadow

keeps flapping its wings — as if it were a soul, a woman’s soul

struggling to slip loose

 

from this knot of landscaped grace. Her real body ( out there)

hidden in the maze of misshapen branches, waiting to feed

off the seeds of their flowers, and fly.

 

 

6 comments

  1. Wendy,

    I was MIA for a few days..back on track again, and what a joy to find this poem.

    This one wears your signature with pride and honor. If it were in a group of a hundred
    unsigned poems, I would have known it was yours. You become what you write, and thus the voice is authentic and moving. The poem is a tapestry and should not be unraveled. Yet, I cannot get these lines out of my mind:

    “And behind

    the perennial vines on my garden wall, a bird’s shadow

    keeps flapping its wings — as if it were a soul, a woman’s soul

    struggling to slip loose

    from this knot of landscaped grace.”

    For me that is the soul of the poem, the heartbeat of the poem.
    Loveliest of the lovely!

    Like

  2. Thanks so much Sarah

    For this incredibly beautiful reply — I deeply appreciate your thoughtfulness and am so glad you enjoyed this poem. As always, you keep me inspired and encouraged!

    Take care,
    my best
    Wendy

    Like

  3. Hi Craig

    So glad you enjoyed this; and thank you so much for the thoughtful comment. I sincerely appreciate it!

    My Best
    Wendy

    Like

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