the intellectual lasso, her plymouth twine lariat hanging in a dozen coils on a salvaged flat head nail in the log, twirled one too many times, frayed rope, the one she used to loop around her saddle horn, the one she used to pull a sled along side her and the horse on which newborn lambs could be ferried from pasture to the shed, the ewes following behind,
sap on the cabin walls drip, sticky dominoes, fortunately there is plenty of kerosene, kindling, firewood, and beeswax candles,
the rafters whistle, her cold draft blows through me, mud and straw needs repacked, chokecherries from down by the ditch leave me with sweet memories, sealed half-pint Mason jars of jam, the berries she picked,
tangible symbols of women once inspired of each other, the ashcan piece of life that remains, the fire that once blazed in the four poster bed,
sitting in my claw-foot tub, such rarities in life humbly takes its place in the warm water, keeps me focusing on the real measure of time, it need only be a place where you breathe in the pungent scent of sage and contemplate in quiet...
Sage Sweetwater has closed her poetry board for reviews on Authors Den. Please feel free to read Sage's poetry, but she asks that her readers leave no reviews. Thank you to all of you who have been generous and left reviews for Sage Sweetwater since July 2005. Thank you.
'...a place
where you breathe in the pungent
scent of sage and contemplate in quiet...: a great place to place the Intellectual Lasso and grow... Beautiful Sage!
Love, Suzie :-D
A young technician mourns his lover until he meets another man - a man with a secret. But there are other secrets as a jealous ghost returns to protect his turf.
Fee
Thanks...
where you breathe in the pungent
scent of sage and contemplate in quiet...: a great place to place the Intellectual Lasso and grow... Beautiful Sage!
Love, Suzie :-D