Saturday, February 2, 2013

Who Counts Leaves

or counts owls
on their fingertips

or lost words
on their tongues…

what is the point
they would say –

but, late today
I heard a sound

rise up from the edge
of a half frozen pond

something primitive
yet recognized and

familiar to the world
like the skeletons of

weeds that shook
the sound across the

snow covered fields
in beats and measures

of steady clicks –
groups of two, three

and four measured
beats or perhaps more

nothing tactile
but palpable -

like true harmony
urging on the



Kat Mortensen said...

Beautiful and serene.

Sarah Hina said...

Gorgeous, and with your impeccable stamp of precision. Your instrument is always clear, Kay.

So good to see you back here. I've missed your beautiful words.

K.Lawson Gilbert said...

Kat - many thanks for stopping by and leaving such a nice comment. I love your profile picture, by the way. :)

K.Lawson Gilbert said...

Sarah - I appreciate your lovely comment so much. You have always been so supportive of me, and my poetry - for which I am very grateful. xo

Okie Prof said...

Here you go again..Bradbury said poetry stretches muscles you don't use...your words, thoughts, and images always stretch them for me. I'm left again with wonder, and haunted...Thanks.

K.Lawson Gilbert said...

Hey, Okie Prof! Thanks for always liking my Seriously, I am humbled by your comment. Poetry always does that for me, too. Art has always stretched the muscles in my brain. as well.
So, thank you for your inspiring watercolors.

Vesper said...

I love this, Kay! Excellent rhythm!
And I love very much seeing you here again.

K.Lawson Gilbert said...

Vesper, so nice to see you, too. I hope you have been well. Thanks for coming by and leaving a comment. xo