I hear voices: snowmelt whispering, murmuring, sighing, gurgling a hundred ways at once. Up in the newly bare field, a turkey gobbles.
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Daily short takes from an Appalachian hollow
Daily short takes from an Appalachian hollow
I hear voices: snowmelt whispering, murmuring, sighing, gurgling a hundred ways at once. Up in the newly bare field, a turkey gobbles.
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February thaw
the sound of flapping
from the clothesline
Thaw
If I were a brook I would unwind
like a spool in the sun, shake my green
maracas with sequined stones.
If I were a beet in the soil I’d pulse
like a heart, pull myself out
of my muddy shroud.
If I were a bowl of new
steamed rice I’d curl fringes of steam
and float a grateful face above it.
All over the newly bare field, melting
voices– whispering, murmuring, sighing
and gurgling a hundred ways at once.
~ Luisa A. Igloria
02 18 2011
February in Chennai
Faint like the heart beat of a fetus
nascent in prenatal slumber
lies the summer miles below the earth
murmuring and sighing.
Typed my url wrong in my earlier response. Sorry.
Corrected. Thanks for helping us to picture February in south India. Wonderful image.
Powerful figures of language. ” Faint heart beat….lies summer…murmuring and sighing…” Poetry. Will read more from your blog.