Monday, September 7, 2009

Poem by Festival Poet Ellen Goldsmith

AWAY

Crows caw, the rumble

of a plane overhead,

bird sound and bee buzz.

I came here to read,

uninterrupted by phone,

dusty tables, unmade beds.

There is nothing I need

to do for the cove. I can

leave the grasses as they are.

The water comes and goes.

The wind makes its own decisions.


published in Wolf Moon Journal, Fall 2009

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