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.
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”!