Sharing with The Sunday Muse #253.
A vine sprawls over the post, leaning
over the railing, pointing down the culvert.
A poodle stumbles to a saunter at pressure
while her boy shuffles up into a yard
to avoid a parked car, a puddle of old pollen,
and the sly glances of squirrels.
The coyote feels the vine pointing
and suggests the girl tear her photo,
revealing she's just another vine.
The poodle strains but the boy doesn't see
and the squirrels don't tell.
I think a summer day has become lost in the middle of spring and I'm just ready for summer's hibernation. Poets hibernate in summer, right?
-- chrissa
Love your maze of a poem and YOU hibernate? Never.
ReplyDeleteSquirrels are cunning creatures. They squirrel away a lot of useful information. For blackmail?
ReplyDelete..
I love the eeriness created in this poem such a good read 🙌
ReplyDeleteI love what you saw and created from the image...The worded revelation of inspiration
ReplyDeleteGreat title, and maybe we are all just vines and tangle.
ReplyDeleteLove the way this feels so mysterious from beginning end...all the while captivating like a vine around the ankle. Even in hibernation you could write the most wonderful poem my friend!
ReplyDeleteWhat a tangled weave you wove today. I do not understand it. I appreciate it.
ReplyDeleteThanks for dropping by my blog.
Much💚love
Interesting, intriguing and a pefect accompaniment to the picture!
ReplyDelete