Wednesday, August 26, 2009

Something About Light

It is always feathers and turning shadows
into something about light;
moving like the morning glory
from the far side of destiny,,
with tendrils of gold
falling from an oval sky.
It warms the slanting chair
then melts across the pathway of cement
into the room towards the crumple of sheets,
still indented by the night.
I close my eyes and turn on the sky,
wait for the fragrance of line-dry
to open doors and let out the danger
of the dragging-down fog,
as the dog, warm and filled with barking,
furs swiftly past my leg
into the mockingbird's song.
Inside this room of bone and skin
I awaken to the possibility of wing.
It is always feathers and flight
and the changing way of shadows
and something about light.


  1. This is lovely, Martie. I appreciate particularly how every item can be a verb, how a dog can fur, how barking can fill, how wing can be possible.

  2. This is lovely, Martie. I particularly like that everything can be a verb, that dogs and fur, that barking can fill, that wing is possible.

  3. Thanks so much, Dale..for your comments and for joining my blog. I like to play with wording that way, mix things around in a crazy way that makes sense.

  4. Oh wow, this is an incredible poem, from the opening invocation to the final repetition, so palpable with its images, textures, thoughts, inventions ('fur' as a verb, yes!). Filed under wish-I'd-written-that. Beautiful!

  5. Been taking a quick peek... love your words, and the accompanying photography. Reminds me of some of the shots I've tried to take... and some of the words I've tried to write :)

  6. Thank you Sam....a high compliment coming from you! Julee...wonderful to meet you here.