Monday, September 22, 2014

Bare-foot in the Kitchen

I am flecked with the juice of pomegranates,
Bare-footed and listening to the poetry of ages
Read by men I will never meet.


This day is a clear one,
To my mind and my eyes.
I see so much today and I am happy.


I am grateful for the gift of rare days.
Peace is so flitting in these chaos times,
But I pad the nest anyway.


Strings and cloth scraps here.
This side needs extra down.
I cover the sharp sticks of life.


There are still years before I will launch them
As a mother eagle with her young.
They will soar higher than I, I tell my heart.


Today, it has been time and sight.
An eagle's sharp vision, by heaven, has been the gift
And my arms will, cradling, enfold it.

4 comments:

  1. Love that first stanza - sounds ideal, really. "This day" is really cool, a clear insight that not every day is so blessed. A mother has so many fears and yearnings… just a sweet potpourri of a poem.

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  2. "I am grateful for the gift of rare days"...I love this line...

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  3. covering the sharp sticks of life . . . isn't that the truth.

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  4. So beautifully pensive, I found this poem to be very uplifting.

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