Posted by beardedlady on July 22, 2002, at 6:09:12
Larkspur or What a poem is about
(for my parents on their birthdays)When you see larkspur,
you think it is about a flower,
purple spikes so long
you carry them like an infant,
cradling their blooms.When you see swamp oak,
you think it is about a tree
broad and lush now,
with so many nests,
a century of shade below.When you see yarn,
you think it is about knitting,
the glance of metal needles,
a trail of stockinette stitch,
ladies’ chatter.But it is not about a larkspur
or a swamp oak or some yarn.
It is about you,
the way you taught me to see.
It is about you.So when this pair of snappers
mated in the run just below
the bridge, where I stood watching
as the sun rose and the clocks
continued to tick,And when, feet away,
a great blue stood,
taller than a toddler,
waiting for breakfast to swim past
while the clocks continued to tick,And when I stand,
stick still, bearing witness
to my unfair share of miracles
(because how many times
is too many?)It was not about those turtles
or the heron, it is not
about the places
I should have been by now.
It was about you.
It is always about you.lfm (a.k.a. bearded lady)
poster:beardedlady
thread:614
URL: http://www.dr-bob.org/babble/faith/20020715/msgs/614.html