Monday, August 25, 2008

A Poem For Monday

A Brief Season
.
I follow him unwillingly
beyond the stillness of the house
feet bare against cool steps
and scraggled weeds, I
pace myself
to lengthen the distance
through a yard cold and dreamless
shadowed by ancient oaks
and somber moss
and jays attending their territory
.
my eyes rise to brightness
slicing through dark keyhole gaps
amidst rigid leaves
searching for warmth
and a defined sun
within that cold smear of light
.
and, finding none, I
pace myself to shorten the distance
between this brief winter
and the warmth of him
.
Cynthia Ann Conciatu
1997 Theodore Lindgren Memorial Award
Florida State Poets Association

8 comments:

Queenie said...

Superb words,poetry defiantly to share.

Sandy said...

wonderfully descriptive and evocative...(I'm not sure what that means but it came to mind)...

evoke...okay evokes images...of my feet being cold...

this was great.

willow said...

This poem is wonderful, Cynthia!!! I am very, very impressed.

Shellmo said...

I loved this poem - it evoked such wonderful imagery!

MuseSwings said...

Queenie, Sandy, Willow and Shelly, thank you for popping over! Thank you too, for your comments! My feet also get cold when I read this, and a little scratched up from those weeds, Sandy.

Lavinia said...

Lovely, haunting poem. Who is the "he", I am wondering?

Driving Miss Willow said...

Thank you for arranging the words so perfectly on the page so my imagination can pick them up and enjoy them.

MuseSwings said...

Beautifully said, Miss Willow! Thank you