Wednesday, April 16, 2014

In Copper Sunlight

     
                 ... in the little cemetery where we once exchanged vows 

                                           ... Whitman's words / pressed in copper sunlight / still hang in the oak tree

        
                                                               
                                              



8 comments:

  1. Potent little poem...I wonder what kind of vows are exchanged in a cemetery...who is "friend"...good questions to ponder

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    1. A chapter in my life ... memories become poetry ... :)

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  2. Whitman wrote a lot under oaks. He wondered how the tree could "utter joyous leaves without a friend, a lover, near." He knew he could not. That old snippet returned to me as I read your poem. Sometimes poems become memories as well as the other way around. Yours are memorable.

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    1. Sleepless nights sometimes bring nice surprises ... thank you so much for this lovely comment.

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  3. An incredibly sweet essence is felt by the reader in this piece. As if I could actually feel your emotion. Thank you.

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    Replies
    1. Thank you so much, Bill. I love reading your comments.

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  4. It is pleasant to think of such a place.

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