The trouble is not
with the names of flowers
how to make fire
or find my way home
on a moonless night.
I dream
of the long walk
and the endless green river.
What happened to the frogs?
The sky
is bruised
above the blood-red sun.
I live among people
with three simple rules
do not kill birds
do not pee at the water-gathering place
and I can never remember the third.
Ray Sharp, Michigan, USA
5 comments:
Outstanding on three levels.... though I can't remember the third.
Nice work.
Interesting images and unanswered questions that make the reader want more... That's the way to leave it.
Thank you Fiddler and Gordon
bravo! i love the mood of the poem. have you read the book "Tribes: We need you to lead us" by Seth Godin? Just thought I'd share...
This poem appears in my book, Memories of When We Were Birds, available at reddashboard dot com. Thanks again, Juliet
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