Today's poem is by James McCorkle
The air carries its liquidity, gray sheen of shell
Across the pines and maples
the depleted world back,
As though to answer some question, that line
Of questioning pushing against
The air, each letter straggling
my daughter repeats
The only ones straggling to the door.
Air hung with virga,
nothing reaches its ground,
Traveling so, who reaches their home
Again and again?
the beech's deep rouge
Dry ground, brown and dun, these are the ends,
Clutter and murmurs from above.
Copyright © 2003 James McCorkle All rights reserved
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
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Copyright © 2002, 2003 Verse Daily
All Rights Reserved
Copyright © 2002, 2003 Verse Daily All Rights Reserved