Sunday, March 04, 2007


He finds me when I am not looking,

the soft footstep at the threshold of my senses

an embrace of apple blossoms humming with bees,

murmuring all languages that have ever been spoken

Oh quickened tongue made of light and earth,

voice of star and root, wave and leaf

He comes to me when I am not seeing,

the honey glow of light from behind the door

Here is the expectant coil of green beneath the snow,

beneath the burn, beneath the stone

Here is warm and sun on skin again after night,

after grief, after sorrow.

By an Anonymous poet as featured by Maggi Dawn by way of The Wicker Chronicles in 2006.
Photographs courtesy of Google Images.


Dennis said...

It reminds me of a poem by Maya Angelou. I don't know if it is exactly kosher to post a poem as a reply to poem, but here it is:

Arrival, by Maya Angelou

Angels gather.
The rush of mad air
cyclones through.
Wing tips brush the
Hair, a million
stand; waving black anemones.
Hosannahs crush the
Shell’s ear tender, and
down clattering
to the floor.
Harps sound,
undulate their
sensuous meanings.
Hallelujah! Hallelujah!
beyond the door.

Graeme said...

I'm glad you liked it. :)