Friday, May 18, 2012
Oyster ocean washes a pearl out
into our giant hands.
The moon quivers.
She, it is a she, crackles and yawns.
Her skin is loose, like a puppy.
Her eyes are little dark moons.
Her mother, most beautiful vessel,
glistens and glows. Tired. A queen.
Her father bends down
to kiss her mother's lips.
His face is a porch light.
I came in from the field with roots for toes,
and try to stand as a maple would,
branches soft and curving as the wind,
oh, soft May lisp of a breeze,
while I remember how to cradle.
The pearl with her eager and sucking mouth
won't let go of my finger.
My heart runs races.
Posted by flood water photography at 11:03 AM