Wednesday, November 26, 2014

an unread letter

24A going north:
race me, clouds.
I'm waiting with strangers,
our days numbered
in alphanumerics.
We are shadows
in our seats
held in relief
until our feet touch down again.



This poem was inspired by the imaginary garden, Robert Plant, Alison Krauss, an unread letter, and the real toad from seat 24A, flying north, who gave us a word list:

fly, race, skew, waiting, strangers, clouds, dirt, shadows, horizon, contour, relief, scale

2 comments:

  1. very cool. you've captured the essence. thanks for adding your voice ~ M

    ReplyDelete
  2. It feels like swimming in clouds... at very high speed, but without moving.

    ReplyDelete