Tags
2015, birch, birds, blue, father, grey, Jon, nose, outside, silhouette, silver, sky, son, trees, woodland, work
Jon
but
he was right
to take the Old Dog out to the woods
after work
shut me out a little
while he forages for something or other
while
I lean among the silver birch
and join the birds with
cold ears and running nose and greet the blueing sky
cold grey and held with silhouettes
Jon is my second son; he practises foraging for naturally available foods and sometimes takes me out if I look like I need it …
————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–
birch & silver wormhole: and that’s where I are
birds wormhole: suddenly fly off again
blue wormhole: first Spring storm
father wormhole: mauve
grey wormhole: up on the hill
Jon wormhole: Luisenplatz
silhouette wormhole: keep the light off
sky wormhole: tabla
trees wormhole: red ink
work wormhole: through
Ah, such ambivalence is life. The shape of this poem sent me foraging for meaning.
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Ha! When you get to my age, you just lean against the birch?
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