Wednesday, March 13, 2013

Tuesday Poem: originally published by The Syracuse Record in 2003

Milkweed Lyric

in this moon
scape snow-lit
night, our bed is
a pod, perched at the
end of a dry grizzled
stalk, heaved by the
wind this way and that.
Here, on the Milky Way’s
shoulder, we curl, snug little
seeds, taking fugitive rest
in a feathery but ephemeral
nest,  tucked in so well
we’re unable to see
what might be out
there waiting, or
where we’ll
be planted

1 comment:

Mary McCallum said...

Nice poem, Eileen. It is its own smallness and intimacy - and references a child's world/children's stories so beautifully.