a meadow full of flowers,
asters, daisies and wild roses, a place
of shadows where people pass through
unseen, invisible to one another and
to themselves in their rush to their
next appointment, their next secret
to escape the palpating emotions rising
in their chests, the essential burden
of being human, in love and fallible.
but one walked through the meadow in
full light, boldly and with eyes straight
ahead, alone, alive; every flower
unfolded in front of her
daring to disobey the sun as it
dipped below the horizon.
This poem was prompted by http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15708, a poem entitled "Often I am permitted to return to a meadow" by Robert Duncan. Andrea understands and reads poetry which is much more highbrow than anything I can read, or worse, imitate. But, sigh, this part of the pact for our writing at http://thelastmonthatharvard.wordpress.com/ where you can find poetry written to prompts by Karen, Andrea and me, along with short updates on what we are collectively up to Wellington, New Zealand, Las Cruces, New Mexico and Boulder, CO.