Poetry in Progress

I’m sharing this, but its still a work in progress. There is something missing or too much. I’m not really sure. I’ll give it some time then come back to it.


Untitled

(a Silver Lining from “I Sought the Wood in Winter” by Willa Cather)

I walked in and found what I hadn’t sought.

She laid upon the floor of cool wood.

Her body basking in the long light of summer.

Standing silently in the door, I wondered if and when

do I pull away silently or snap the figurative twig?

But I stood still, guilt ridden and virgin green.

Brushing away my rudest

thoughts — boughs

blocking the tender

scene of buds

in honeysuckle pink.

Wanting nothing to come between.

Her light-fingered

aspens

stretched toward me; I trembled

and shivered fitfully,

backing away from the suddenly urgent sun

seeking the cover of shade.

Forever on I sought to see daffodil

blossoms opening golden

behind every

door — my eyes starry

for a luscious peek of glades

split by running brooks;

To hear the mating song

of a robin

singing from nested hands

resting between her lissome

legs — on a maiden

voyage whispering to her willows

till she shook,

cried out yellow,

and threw back her auburn hair.


Be well,

Monty

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