Thursday, June 1, 2017

The Gift



Sand shifts
this brittle, black driftwood mood

out to the inhaling sea
with a booming, insulting sneer,

carrying footprints of poems
I’ve neglected to write in the sting-crash of time.

But I won’t hear,
captivated watching you,

my favorite sanderlings,
prying open shells, beaks gleaming,

etching me poems,
wing tips in the sand.



© 2017 Jennifer Wagner


for my sons



27 comments:

Jane Dougherty said...

Watching nature just getting on with things is a balm for all the rest.

Kim M. Russell said...

I like this poem very much, Jennifer, especially the lines:
'carrying footprints of poems
I’ve neglected to write in the sting-crash of time' and

'my favorite sanderlings,
prying open shells, beaks gleaming,

etching me poems,
wing tips in the sand'.

Amaya said...

"wing tips in the sand" is testament to poetry all around, and how blessed you are to sense it.

brudberg said...

Carrying footprints of poems...

barefoot summer when it's best.

indybev said...

Ah, so many moments "lost in the sting/crash of time". Better spent watching "wingtips in the sand". Beautiful write!

Grace said...

Love how nature etches your poems,
wing tips in the sand. Beauty of the inhaling sea ~

Buddah Moskowitz said...

Lovely - you captured a moment most beautifully.

Nosaint said...

"The inhaling sea" is very perfect

Sanaa Rizvi said...

etching me poems,
wing tips in the sand.

Gorgeous!!

Blogoratti said...

A nicely written poem, well done.

Magyar said...

Seeing the world.

Soul Circle said...

Oh yes, I felt the unwritten words etched into the sand. Splendid. xo Mother Wintermoon

Anonymous said...

Magically worded and nice come back to those waves. (but wait - aren't those shells gift of the sea)

Sarah Russell said...

"...etching me poems, wing tips in the sand." Love the ending of your poem. Just wonderful!

Wendy Bourke said...

A beautifully rendered - wonderfully worded - piece. I love the feeling of a 'pause' being taken to remind oneself of life's gifts.

Unknown said...

There have been poems written in sand for the wind to blow away - this nearly was one of them!

scotthastiepoet said...

So sorry, unexpected visitors last night have made me rather late in responding to your piece. But always enjoy coming here - always such a deliciously created sense of longing in your work.

Misky said...

Like everyone else, I'm caught by "footprints of poems". Very nice.

said...

This is excellent, Jennifer.
I especially like the opening two couplets and this line: "...I’ve neglected to write in the sting-crash of time"

Sreeja said...

A very beautiful poem....each line creates visual images...!

lynn__ said...

Angst is washed away and words flow with sight of favorite sanderlings...lovely poetry on their wingtips!

Fireblossom said...

Oh! This shifted so beautifully!

janetld said...

I love all the sounds, such as "Sand shifts this brittle, black driftwood mood." And I love the surprising shift to the beautiful last part. The perfect poems for a mother, I suspect: wing tips etched by her sanderlings.

ayala said...

Footprints of poems...I love this on so many levels.

Tank said...

I love how you capture little pieces of our life with your words, reading your poetry always makes me smile!

grapeling said...

sting-crash of time.

damn. wish I'd written this. ~

Kai said...

Beautiful 💕