I Lift from Stone


Claire Everett

Poetry must be as new as foam, and as old as the rock.

(Ralph Waldo Emerson)

this blue hour of dawn
when words are breath
for the candles
of the stars

ink pooling
in the nib of my pen
I wait
for a dragonfly
to rise from amber

was it yesterday
we passed through that insect wing
of a moment…
I remember
every cell and vein

a swan
graceless on dry land
pen to paper
ink flows
I glide on clear water

moments spiral
into thin air…
dust on the page
I breathe
the legacy of scent

sea breeze
morning twilight
lighter than foam
I lift from stone

LYNX XXVI:1 http://www.ahapoetry.com/ahalynx/261solo.html


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