Thursday, April 6, 2017

Poem of the Month

Mountain Lake in Fall

Is it any wonder
that when sheep drink
out of these geese waters
they dream of flying
over this mountain lake

guarded by stalks of corn
posing in green sunlight.
Like drunken sailors
we trolled
the circled dirt path

like satellites spinning
to an end and then
she ran across the short grass
and plunged naked
amongst the feather flapping

and sunken white bellies,
the suspicious eyes
and nervous beaks
garbling out mouthfuls
of sheep lullabies.

How I wish
I could have grown wings
and hugged her
with the shaggy warmth
of darkness.

Steven Pelcman

Blueline magazine Potsdam State University of New York  2015

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