Monday, February 20, 2017

Sunnydale Retirement Home

Sunnydale Retirement Home
© Surazeus
2012 08 10

Soak wood in water, heat it over flame,
and bend beams in elegant curves to build
boat that glides smooth on rippling river waves.

Waves slap wood hull while she holds fishing line
and watches white clouds glow in silver sky,
and glitter sunlight that dazzles my eyes.

Disconnect my mind from anchoring tree
and lost I float on waves of dreaming hope
from truth that drops ripe apple of temptation
in grasping hand, before sunset dissolves
timeless landscape of meadow and calm lake.

What is more secure and real, tree or truth
with roots of words soaking dreams from my mind?

I spit apple seeds in river-bank grass.
Hopping robins eat seeds, then flutter wings,
and carry my discarded words to nests
where baby birds keep memories I lost.

Solid Earth feels strange when I step from boat
to anchor rope on trunk of ancient oak.
We snuggle in boat rocked by gentle waves
and watch stars weave our minds in one dream.

Who knows what he is thinking, that old man
in wheelchair staring at highway of cars.

1 comment:

  1. The word flow is the thing that really stands out in this poem