
It’s entirely conceivable that life’s splendor surrounds us all, and always in its complete fullness, accessible but veiled, beneath the surface, invisible, far away. But there it lies—not hostile, not reluctant, not deaf. If we call it by the right word, by the right name, then it comes. This is the essence of magic, which doesn’t create but calls. ~Kafka
Here's a poem I wrote this past week, inspired by a visit to our community lake. My photo was taken there, too. I'm linking up with Poets United, a wonderful blog where you can share your poetry each Sunday - thank you for stopping by!
JUNE
Circles of thought spin
Atop the lake's water
As a tree, sun-kissed
And languid, bends over
Intently to see the words
Sensing at its roots
That the source
Is actually deep
Beneath the surface
Beyond its reflection
The sky's vault unlocks
Scent of blue air wafts
Moving through the
Spiral of my inner ear
To that soul spot
Where a poem flies free
Like a bird, its beak
Carrying the words
I don't speak, its
Feathers tickling
My tender heart place
A lone wren's music
Brims like liquid
Over the horizon's rim
An oak branch shifts
The bold sun flicks, and
A pollen-gorged bee
Slumbers and dreams
Nestled inside the
Velvety soft spikes
Of a lilac.
© Sherri Brannon