At the end of flat columns
of beetle-ish leaves,
an Advent swell
of pale buds.
* * *
After all this waiting (a month or more!),
a crinkled tip of petal, like an egg tooth,
at the blossom's farthest end.
* * *
Full unfurling--
a snapping of sails, a whole flock
of mythical birds--wings over wings
in the many-wavéd light.
of beetle-ish leaves,
an Advent swell
of pale buds.
* * *
After all this waiting (a month or more!),
a crinkled tip of petal, like an egg tooth,
at the blossom's farthest end.
* * *
Full unfurling--
a snapping of sails, a whole flock
of mythical birds--wings over wings
in the many-wavéd light.
Just like Advent! Nice, Elena!
ReplyDeleteThank you, Beth!
DeleteThere's a sense of unfolding wonder here: a reverence, an expectant immediacy. I have a bit more to say (positive, of course!) but it can wait. Thank you for sharing this poem!
ReplyDeleteThank you, Tom!
Delete