Tuesday, September 8, 2015

Queen Ann and Kindred

Her eyes, half shut lures wanderers and poets, for they know
How soon the green of summer’s queen must don a shroud of snow
Her beckoning the reckoning where thought and hunger spar
As Duty vexes Dreamer with The Very Things That Are

The lover of Her stutters; satisfies the lack of words
With Sight and Touch; Her flower mothers broods of bloom and birds
As sky divides the night and day; poets pause, then adjust
Their points of pen accordingly because they know they must

The berried vine cleaves where the leaf of it withers and dies
And all The Things people pursue imitate its demise
Where now Her eyes half-shut suggest the imminence of sleep
Her gown scatters in tatters only Mother Earth can keep

© Janet Martin


  1. Love the close-in perspective photos!
    (& the lovely lingering poem, too - that is a given!)

    1. I'm loving your close-up chrome 'reflections' these days!


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