Poplars stoop over the lake.
A random breeze mocks
the water into small waves.
Sleeping ducks extract beaks
from backs and exhale in disgust.
A twitch of swallows is pitched
off a poplar and scatters like glitter
over the water. The water calms
to hold a cup of sun on its saucer.
The poplar looks morose now
his friends have left: frustration,
resignation. Laying down his sack,
the woodcutter sets to work. A branch
falls into the water. The sun disappears.
Gordon Mason, Scotland and Spain
3 comments:
I especially liked your imagery...effective partly because they're formed from common objects...
I loved these lines:
A twitch of swallows is pitched
off a poplar and scatters like glitter
over the water. The water calms
to hold a cup of sun on its saucer.
Thx for the enjoyment,
Bob Bradshaw
It's a nice poem draws a lovely picture!
This is like a snapshot of frozen time.
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