from "The Hidden Well"


sundown

the shadow of the tree expected
the scorching of its
layer tattooed on asphalt
by the twilight –

my sole crushed it,
first its branches,
leafless, silent and slowly decolorating,
melting in the heated grayness,
and then its trunk,
tired, waiting with dignity to die,
and in the meantime reflecting
the wooden bloodless column
serving as resting point for migratory birds.

on my sole
i still carry reminisces of it –
tiny atoms from the dying shadow,
like ephemeral relics of some
less ephemeral decomposition –

the shadow died,
once, twice, thrice...
the tree still had to wait its "once"...




Poetry by Lilly Negoi
Read 501 times
Written on 2012-11-30 at 12:24

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Nathalia
A lovely poem about the ephemeral state of nature.
Enjoyed reading it. :-)
2012-12-01


countryfog
I've never really considered the physics or metaphysics of stepping on shadows . . . this is going to take me somewhere I haven't gone before.
2012-11-30