by Lea Marie Taddonio
The tsunami alarm sounds off the first Tuesday of
each month.
Cane fields are stirring like water just before
wind.
The cat on the step ignoring.
The gecko pipes once.
A truck backfires up the canyon.
A cloud becomes turtle
then a dragon that eats the turtle
and it seems like such a waste of time to die.
Sunday, December 02, 2007
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
I share your joy. Dying, well, we don't know if it's a waste or not. Continuation of life, even beyond this moment on our beautiful planet, seems to be the case.
The details immediately around us grow sharper and more urgently noted during trauma and crisis. This poem eloquently speaks of that odd and special process of intense observation kicking in at an emtional moment.
Post a Comment