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Monday, November 12, 2012

ogeechee dust





we practiced paper-napkin origami
wrote poetry on the inside of our hands

light promised purpose
and spring found its glitter
in the subtle momentum
of energy's metronome

when wind shifted
and honey bees gleaned soft pollen
from the tupelo
we understood the tart taste
of borrowed time

~

it rained at your funeral
and I cried some
reading scribbles on my palm
turning words on ogeechee dust 




Pamela A. Lamppa
Copyright © 2012
all rights reserved

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