carriage

and the hills
form waves
upon my head

white birds
on the green
unsettled
as I progress from step
to step
rise into the air

wheel around
then
land again

fog valleys
are a clearing for my thoughts
sharpened instantly
by the blossoming of wattle trees
the golden
and the white

I walk

a peregrination
undertaken while I breathe
life
as light as air

ah
I would the willow
drape its young
new leaves
for my hair
to fall in plaited rows
like dreadlocks
knotted
tender green

a stride

another stride

I stroll
between the last brown
cries left behind
by Autumn
and the new call
the bursting light
of Spring

between
what was
and what will
surely
be

then there
the blue
breaking in
breaking through

milling clouds
ragged
thick
descended as a blanket
so very low
and yet
there
again
is the blue

kiss of warmth
upon my brow
to ease the burden
of carriage


© Frank Prem, 2017

September 2017 Poem #09: one silent hour

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.