Tuesday, December 6, 2016

I found a poem with leaves


I found a poem with leaves where commas might have been,
or so I thought, until I read the limbs, which suggested deeper roots,
with patient influence, like my grandmother’s handmade quilt,
and so I read and read and read, and warmed my knees
with the voices of her hometown Swedish friends
just as the snow began to fall, their breath
my life her hands your love
so pleased to praise
and sing
it all.



11 comments:

Gary B. Fitzgerald said...

Life as fragile as leaves
that fall, full and green
then red and brown
then not at all.

William Michaelian said...

Ah, perfect. Thanks, Gary.

Gary B. Fitzgerald said...

Thank you for the inspiration, William. I would give you credit for it in my next book if I hadn't given up writing poetry. I mean, why grow tomatoes if nobody buys them?
Okay,okay...yes I'm depressed. Who wouldn't be these days?

Gary B. Fitzgerald said...

Sorry to impose.

William Michaelian said...

Me? I like tomatoes.

William Michaelian said...

How about that. Our letters crossed in the mail. You are not imposing and there is no need to apologize.

Gary B. Fitzgerald said...

So, do you know the difference between knowledge and wisdom?

Knowledge is knowing that a tomatoe is technically a fruit and not a vegetable.

Wisdom is knowing that you don't put tomatoes in your fruit salad.

Thank you, as always, William.

Gary

Gary B. Fitzgerald said...

Tomatoe? Shades of Dan Quayle.

Gary B. Fitzgerald said...

Tpyos scuk!

William Michaelian said...

I wouldn't worry about it. You're probably just going through a spell.

Gary B. Fitzgerald said...

Mebbe. I'll have to check that.