[lit-ideas] SUNDAY POEM
- From: "Mike Geary" <atlas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
- To: "LIT-IDEAS" <lit-ideas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
- Date: Sun, 13 Jun 2004 22:13:24 -0500
1
In spring when I put my ear to a tree
and told you I could hear
the surging sap,
you laughed,
and I laughed,
we laughed together all that acorn-making summer.
In October when I touched you,
you looked away,
and I heard the leaves die,
But it was you who was crying.
2
A sudden summer rain
we ducked into a small cafe
and drank beer and watched
the rain spark silver on the black street
there was no need to speak
we knew
3
In the city, trees seem confused
they drop their leaves like yellow pamphlets
to blow along the streets.
I feel for them and tell them
of forest floors years deep.
Mike Geary
PS. I hope D. Ritchie will continue his contributions and not leave me
standing naked in the town square.
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