Skip to main content
PBS logo

The Eclectic Pen - Untitled

By: Eva L. (wearetrees)   + 37 more  
Date Submitted: 4/4/2008
Last Updated: 11/30/2008
Words: 104

  The halo of long fields,
a silent canvas awake in an impossible panoply
of brook
and branch
we stir beneath the bejeweled sky
itís kind to us

This time last year I was so small,
guarding against
thoughts of the sickle
a quiet stirring in the intimate leitmotif
of the morning
its underbelly sheds night
as my feet mingle with the shuffling sentence of the soil
like the perfect nodding heads
of blades of grass

I burn, too, lover
though not as bright
not as long -
a steward to sadness
a sieve

Take a razor to these plains,
paint them, inflate them
watch my body bend
rise every dawn, cold with the crescent -
wily hands
throwing coins to the crows,
bread to the dead.

The Eclectic Pen » All Stories by Eva L. (wearetrees)

Member Comments

Leave a comment about this story...

Comments 1 to 2 of 2
Marta J. (booksnob) - 4/5/2008 11:17 PM ET
This is beautiful.
Lena S. (SquirrelNutkin) - 6/8/2008 12:51 PM ET
This is wonderful.
Comments 1 to 2 of 2