As nice as it is to have Agnes' father visiting us for a few weeks, it's also nice to have some peace and quiet. And solitude ...
Solitudes
by Margaret Gibson
For today, I will memorize
the two trees now in end-of-summer light
and the drifts of wood asters as the yard slopes away toward
the black pond, blue
dragonflies
in the clouds that shine and float there, as if risen
from the bottom, unbidden. Now, just over the fern—
quick—a glimpse of it,
the plume, a fox-tail's copper, as the dog runs in ovals and eights,
chasing scent.
The yard is a waiting room. I have my chair. You, yours.
The hawk has its branch in the pine.
White petals ripple in the quiet light.
Have a good day, and enjoy the rest of your weekend ... in solitude, if possible.
More thoughts tomorrow.
Bilbo
Sometimes we need relief from everyday noise and issues.
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ReplyDeleteI miss my boyfriend. Solitude is hard after his visit.
ReplyDeleteLovely.
ReplyDeleteHeading to your neck of the woods to see youngest child. Nameste.
My yard is calling me. "I need a haircut!"
ReplyDeleteIt's a really nice poem to contemplate.
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