outside
outside
there is a stone
the color of the evening sky
it disappears into the night
as the sound of rain
stretches into the future
a bird
a heron is fishing for his dinner
seeing through reflections
brighter than he is
for that sustaining pulse
the heartbeat
that feeds the stomach
the surgeon of the night sky
restores dead things
with the power of sound
This entry was written by
pilgebump, posted on
May 8, 2009 at 12:13 am, filed under
Poems,
Words,
jon hassell,
sounds,
trophallaxis and tagged
death,
Dream time,
earth,
fish,
flamingo,
night,
photo,
poetry,
taste,
trophallaxis,
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outside
One Comment
Good poem!
Getting better every day!
(I was just visiting)
solei