Two squirrels grappling or grooming on a thin tulip poplar branch, among nubbins of new leaves. One slips and falls 30 feet to the ground.
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Two squirrels grappling or grooming on a thin tulip poplar branch, among nubbins of new leaves. One slips and falls 30 feet to the ground.
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ON WRITING 30
Was this the end of the grappling then?
Tremulous nubbins on trembling branches
do not make for fair jousting grounds,
neither does the lashing wind make it.
But what if it was not the frolic of a day?
What if it was a mating romp atop the poplar?
Then woe to the one left behind on the tree.
The fall of the other was a risk well-met.
The fall at thirty feet is not unlike writing 30,
to a story troubling for a beginning and end.
Whence came the fall? At story’s sorry start?
Or was it the fitting end to one not yet begun?
—Albert B. Casuga
04-29-11
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Dave,
I missed that “it” in line two of the second stanza. Please insert to read:
What if it was a mating romp atop the poplar?
Thanks, amigo. On your Wales trip: Vaya con Dios!
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Thanks. I’ll post tomorrow, too — I’m leaving Sunday morning.
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Godspeed. Your Sunday Post will be my prompt for the 30 of Poetry Month. Take care.
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Risk
Nubbin of green, tremulous branch
of a tulip poplar– how fast the careen
from thought to dream.
~ Luisa A. Igloria
04 29 2011
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I hope you enjoyed the collaboration for poetry month, Luisa, as much as I did. Here’s a pithy one (Risk) which is a good cap for the give and take. Thanks and Bravo for being a good poet.
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