Welcome to National Poetry Month day thirteen. Happy Palm Sunday. This is the start of week #3 where I will feature the following guest bloggers; Lori Lynne Armstrong, Michael O’Connor, Ice, Jodey Mann and others.
Today I have fellow WordPress blogger and poet, Lori Lynne Armstrong. Read her vivid poem below and then check out her websites for other poetry and her open and honest writings about her experiences. Enjoy!
It was nothing dramatic,
just a walk along a shoreline.
Overcast morning, humble
in browns and gray (oh,
but the browns were living browns
and the gray was a living gray)
There was no shouting, no
dancing with head thrown back
only a slow-creeping miracle
of graylight steps instead of dark
and live air willingly drawn deep.
No eagles soared. The common
red-winged blackbirds showed
their tiny epaulets like sedate ushers
to this unknown attraction, until I
became the tourist pointing out the sights:
So this is how wind feels
and this is the texture of mist and oh, look
how water laps against a stone!
Talking on a bench (so this is a bench)
about simple things, I saw
the unstaged ballet of the water-birds
and found that I could hear their call–
But it was nothing
And when the flock rose as one, beating
that electric circle and closing back,
No epiphany there! Just a small
reactive flutter and a stirring;
the living gray nudging at the dead.