This is my lurch toward the avian nature poetry that Fog writes so well.
Almost like a group of monks with hands behind their
Backs. Later on, the nuns will come. I wonder how
They choose their paths. Do they just go, or is there
Something they believe that they will find? I wonder
Why I chose to rise, to put my hands behind my back,
And watch the hill. What had I thought I'd find?
Poetry by Lawrence Beck
Read 33 times
Written on 2011-01-11 at 12:44
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
Pilgrimage
I watch the turkey toms trudging up a snowy hill,Almost like a group of monks with hands behind their
Backs. Later on, the nuns will come. I wonder how
They choose their paths. Do they just go, or is there
Something they believe that they will find? I wonder
Why I chose to rise, to put my hands behind my back,
And watch the hill. What had I thought I'd find?
Poetry by Lawrence Beck
Read 33 times
Written on 2011-01-11 at 12:44
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text| Texts |
 by Lawrence Beck Latest textsIllFor Isabelle Unsightly Not the Man He Was The Minutes Crawl Past |
Increase font
Decrease