I have been widowed now for (unbelievingly) nearly eight years. My husband was a prolific writer (unpublished) and I would like to share some of his thoughts;
one of three poems, written in 1973
Seven a.m.
Birds. Air free,
the sun tuning up.
Shadows
of trees, bushes, small stones
warmed, still life
stretching. A nightdressed
child of three wakes,
bare, damp feet,
over the grass; listens
smells, touches this drawing
morning. Somewhere
a tyrant closes his eyes.
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Somewhere a tyrant closes his eyes...great phrase and across the globe I imagine descriptive of so many tyrants...as life goes on, somewhere a tyrant is closing his eyes.
ReplyDeleteDelphine, I've enjoyed catching up to your present posts. I'm glad you dropped a comment at my blog so I could find your blogs. It wasn't that time consuming to catch up and I really enjoyed it. I'll definitely be following along. So nice to meet you.