White clay swathes my ankles
as I'm placid in the garden.
It breathes like dawn is coming
as the mud begins to harden.
I straighten with the milky sun,
taste the blushing colors come.
I'm thriving in this drought
beside six hundred tiny sprouts.
I love the images and the central concept in this poem: life and renewal despite the drought, in both a literal and a figurative sense. Favorite lines include:
"white clay swathes my ankles"
"I straighten with the milky sun"
I find myself combining the concept of the white clay breathing like dawn is coming, and I'm wondering if that is what you intend.
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ReplyDeleteHi Madison,
ReplyDeleteI love the images and the central concept in this poem: life and renewal despite the drought, in both a literal and a figurative sense. Favorite lines include:
"white clay swathes my ankles"
"I straighten with the milky sun"
I find myself combining the concept of the white clay breathing like dawn is coming, and I'm wondering if that is what you intend.
Wonderful words!
I love the way in which you tangle up the senses within this poem. It makes the experience all the more real. I love your work, keep going!
ReplyDeletewell written. quirky little rhyme scheme that tricked me at first. i shall call it a sonnetette.
ReplyDeleteOh, I do love the rhythum of this. Lovely words that produce some lovely images in my head!
ReplyDeleteMe being awkward, I got a picture of Brussel Sprouts!!Ooer! LOL :)
ReplyDelete