(The image of Happy Hounds provided by DWB and the hand of a Mystery Twin)
(Co-Ed note: The weeks vanish so quickly, but we can fill them with words as they pass as tithing baskets! Return tomorrow for the always fragrant, flagrant, virtuous, violet, hectic, heroic, melancholy, merciful, and more so and more so thoughts of our beloved The Drifter!–LA)
As If She Were Really There
(For the virgin queen, from a dream)
Fingers around the wheel of life,
I roll it as her long-nailed
fingers’ ghosts
handcuff my wrists
gentle and fair.
Saragun Springs 
Dale
Ah so fitting for where summer gives over to fall. These five lines speak well of that and much else.
Poems can create a mood as well as enhance something already present. I cannot define poems any more than I can define life giving to death and again life. But I can appreciate the feelings, which is enough.
Another great week!
Leila
LikeLike
LA
It’s a perfect way to talk about poems, that we know what they mean even if we can’t say it. And that is a strange thing to do with words, making them say things that both do and do not say things which both can and cannot be pinpointed within ourselves. The most true things of all really can’t be put into words perhaps and poetry is the Moving Hand that shows this, like when Jesus wrote with his finger in the sand then wiped it away before they saw what it was.
Thank you!
DB
LikeLike