Voyagers
The sun,
passing,
scatters silver coins in the treetop
or maybe from the white galleon,
speeding
across blue sky,
cloud-sailors pity me,
sitting
on this June morning,
land-bound in enchantment,
praying
release from the illusion
that here-and-now is real,
convincing
me their sky-voyage is all that matters,
cast their coinage overboard in hope,
procuring
my passage.
7 thoughts on "Voyagers"
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Really love the language and imagery in this poem, as well as the rhythm produced by the -ing words being one word lines.
nice. a very stayed sense of timing
for an otherwise abundant sense of
wander.
esp like the silver scattered coins.
“land-bound in enchantment.” I love this double meaning because, seriously, you are.
This poem is a feast of images and thoughts. Thanks!
I was hooked with the first five lines
love the use of ‘ing’ words: creates beautiful energy and movement.
Thanks, Pam…always a risk, those “ing” words…But I thought here they work…also, I wanted so much to play with the shape once the poem began “taking shape”!