Tuesday, July 30, 2013

Leaves Like fish By Gladys Cardiff



Cottonwood, willow, and briar,
Night air billows in the dark grove,
Hauls the alders over, their leaves.
.
Jumping, spilling silver-bellied on the lawn;
The lighted wind is running with a flood
of green fish, phosphorescent and wild.
.
On the winter grass, breaking like struck matches,
Without warmth or place, random as green minnows.
Above the clouds the sky waits, one celled.
.
Expanded over tides and winds, loving
The south wind as much as the north,
Schooling the planets in discretion and form.




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