Lilies sprout,
butterflies rise up from their petals.
A new blade appears,
shining in the dirt,
flint sharp.
The beautiful things
aren’t dead,
one says.
True, echoes another.
Did I hear that right?
But all I’m met with
are bright, cherubic smiles
thrown over their shoulders
one after the other.
I take their meaning.
Jump fences, barbed wire,
float on dreams
left swirling up from the dust
on the trail.
Switchblade the lasso from your wings,
dig those boot heels in, girl,
fly.
For Dora’s prompt at dVerse Poetics
I felt the first ride of Spring in this lovely poem. Even if that is not what you intended it is something you created. Nice.
ReplyDeleteEcstatically lovely, filled with the joy of life (despite fences, barbed wire) that those "cherubic smiles" communicate. And communicate they do. You heard that right! :) I know it's Muhammad Ali's line, but I got to say, Jen, your poetry floats like a butterfly and stings like a bee (as needed.)
ReplyDeleteAh, this reminds me of Cole Porter's "Don't Fence Me In"! The desert is one of those extreme locations in which I sometimes find an amplified sense of things. As always, you've handled your subject in your signature unique way, Jen.
ReplyDeletehttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XzEs243BX1s
Hot diggity, you go Cowgirl! Great writing as always😊
ReplyDeleteYou start with the lightest of touch and then end with digging the heels! Your words just don't fly, Jennifer, they soar!❤️
ReplyDelete