This is the revision of the unfinished poem, "I Follow".
The songbird hops from branch to branch
singing his Summer song
The song is for me
I know it
So I follow him
along the path, rough
under my bare feet
through the woods
I look behind
only once
The path ends
still I follow
The song ends with a ruffle of feathers
the bird flies off
It's getting dark
I try to find my way,
but I am lost
hopelessly
I sit down next to a pool
and cry
A frog jumps out of the pool
and lands at my feet
It's a luck frog!
I know it
Night falls,
but he glows in the darkness
I follow, he hops
I follow
I walk through the hushed night
there's no sound
just the ribbit, ribbit
of the glowing frog
and the sound of my feet
on the path
Where are we?
I smell smoke
from a chimney
There is a square of light
in the distance
A window!
The frog has left me
I walk up to the door
it looks familiar
I knock, quietly at first
then louder
The door opens
a woman wraps me in her embrace
I know her scent
"The witch," I say, "I escaped from...."
She beckons me into the house,
calls me a half-remembered name
I follow.
October 14, 2008
© Anne Westlund
Poetry by Anne Westlund
Read 601 times
Written on 2008-10-16 at 07:15
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I Follow (2)
The songbird hops from branch to branch
singing his Summer song
The song is for me
I know it
So I follow him
along the path, rough
under my bare feet
through the woods
I look behind
only once
The path ends
still I follow
The song ends with a ruffle of feathers
the bird flies off
It's getting dark
I try to find my way,
but I am lost
hopelessly
I sit down next to a pool
and cry
A frog jumps out of the pool
and lands at my feet
It's a luck frog!
I know it
Night falls,
but he glows in the darkness
I follow, he hops
I follow
I walk through the hushed night
there's no sound
just the ribbit, ribbit
of the glowing frog
and the sound of my feet
on the path
Where are we?
I smell smoke
from a chimney
There is a square of light
in the distance
A window!
The frog has left me
I walk up to the door
it looks familiar
I knock, quietly at first
then louder
The door opens
a woman wraps me in her embrace
I know her scent
"The witch," I say, "I escaped from...."
She beckons me into the house,
calls me a half-remembered name
I follow.
October 14, 2008
© Anne Westlund
Poetry by Anne Westlund
Read 601 times
Written on 2008-10-16 at 07:15
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
