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peter-mcpheePoems
There is a silence - a serenity - Even the dust that hangs - loose in the air - Is still and undisturbed. The distant sound of the mother Remains part of another world - Beyond thin, hard walls. Scene into scene - Feather-flecked memories Echoing and fusing To echo again. Warmth rises - gently - With a rich smell of earth From the pregnant swell of the ground. Fold after fold Feather-filled clouds Following the eddies To a grotto Delight rises - gently - With the delicate lifting of the eggs From the nestling swell off the ground. Motionless Emotionless At peace The child sleeps. The pillows are packed Around her.
0
Sep 29, 2013
Sep 29, 2013 at 7:00 AM UTC
Eggs
There is a silence - a serenity - Even the dust that hangs - loose in the air - Is still and undisturbed. The distant sound of the mother Remains part of another world - Beyond thin, hard walls. Scene into scene - Feather-flecked memories Echoing and fusing To echo again. Warmth rises - gently - With a rich smell of earth From the pregnant swell of the ground. Fold after fold Feather-filled clouds Following the eddies To a grotto Delight rises - gently - With the delicate lifting of the eggs From the nestling swell off the ground. Motionless Emotionless At peace The child sleeps. The pillows are packed Around her.
Written by
peter-mcphee
Australian
Sep 29, 2013
Sep 29, 2013 at 7:00 AM UTC
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