deep waves rise and fall
as they breathe
they hear winds lift
spume from salt
know the cry of terns
lifting the horizon
and yet and yet
they walk the shore
pick sea shells
run rope through hands
yearn for tiller
and rise of tide
About Joanna M. Weston
Joanna M. Weston is married and has two cats, multiple spiders, a herd of deer, and two derelict hen-houses. Her middle reader, Frame and The McGuire, was published by
Tradewind Books; and her poetry book, A Summer Father, was published by Frontenac House of Calgary. Her eBooks are available at her blog: http://www.1960willowtree.wordpress.com/
3 Comments
fine poem. congrats to author
Lovely poem. It feels ancient.
beautiful poem filled with energy and life, and also a timelessness.