the trees
begin to talk,
tossing their green heads
and whispering
about the weather
sailor’s ear —
I hear the trees
whispering
and feel the cold touch
of premonition
the wooden ketch
and the old schooner
know the winds;
I watch them
watching the clouds
ashore,
Mardi Gras beads rattle
against the lamp
and remind me of
halyards in the storm
M Kei, Maryland, USA
3 comments:
M Kei is a Poet, Heron Sea, Short Poems of the Chesapeake Bay
Editor, Fire Pearls: Short Masterpieces of the Human Heart
Moderator for Kyoka Mad Poems & Tanka Sequences
Beautiful. Lovely images just right, they draw me in.
I love how everything seems to evoke the nautical here. And those trees are a wonderful image, as well.
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