love, a leaf
my love, i set it
gentle on the muddy shore
on the flowing breast
of chance and day, a halo
from a hidden sun
behind a cloud, a shroud of
life or death. fate twists
her rope, snaps her scissors --
but my love, a leaf --
veined and intricate, eddies
in the current, now
with and now against the stream
under vines, trailing
the snakes of roots that threaten
to snag, on backs of
fish and otter in the blue
but your eyes turn. "just
a leaf, an old green thing," you
shrug. or not even that --
a leaf: unworthy of gaze.
and so it sails on,
little green boat of my soul
ambassador to
a world of stone and longing.
does it, then, wash up
on another pebbled beach?
does a careful hand
gently pluck it from the sand
and wonder at veins
that thread an unseen maze, or
a green hue out of
season -- trace its fate, its path?
i cannot follow
its path that threads like story
through the river mist.
the end remains unwritten.
It might not have any bearing on your poem, but ...
Aphrodite's Daughterlast week my husband, dog, and I were on the east end of Long Island in Amagansett., NY and we spent some time wandering on the beaches. At one point I saw an oak leaf on the sand - it was brownish and it seemed out of place. But it perfectly belonged there since we are in a Temperate Zone with deciduous trees whose leaves change colors and drop and then regrow,
Like I said, it probably has nothing to do with your poem, but reading it reminded me of that lone leaf resting in the sand. :)
Blessings,
Alexandria Blackbird
02:35 PM CST