written for
Taos
Mountain,
New Mexico
Dark cloud shadow
covers the face of the mountain.
My own face inscrutable, in the mirror.
I sit with the question
what is the one thing I love most,
the one thing I want to share
most with the world.
The clouds move slowly. No wind.
Little humps of green, foothills, grow black.
The poplars begin to shake.
Bird peeps from the Cottonwood tree.
A dark cloud moves this way,
now half the mountain is clouded over.
Rain announcing its venue - it is coming.
First, it grows dark.
Jennifer Boire Taos Journal
2 comments:
Hello, I found your blog through Bella's interview, which I enjoyed immensely! This poem is beautiful. I will look forward to coming back and reading more. Thank you.
Thanks Shelli
glad you liked it.
check out ms menopause or musemother on my links
jenn
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