Friday, January 9, 2009

Winter Trees

Winter Trees

The wet dawn inks are doing their blue dissolve.
On their blotter of fog the trees
Seem a botanical drawing.
Memories growing, ring on ring,
A series of weddings.

Knowing neither abortions nor bitchery,
Truer than women,
They seed so effortlessly!
Tasting the winds, that are footless,
Waist-deep in history.

Full of wings, otherworldliness.
In this, they are Ledas.
O mother of leaves and sweetness
Who are these pietas?
The shadows of ringdoves chanting,
but chasing nothing.

Sylvia Plath

1 comment:

Jannie said...

Great picture for that Glenn!

Methinks she was not thinking very highly of ohter wimmins the day she wrote that.

agonds (security word.)