Wednesday, June 26, 2013

Fresh Air

Fresh Air

Calm down, it’s not a net
around you, it’s a tent.

The flap is right here,
step outside if you need

fresh air, for this place
to spritz you with air

straight from a pine tree’s
mouth. Thunder’s ok,

rain is ok, that’s what
the tent is for, remember.

Don’t confuse shelter with
trap, the mountains are

all around, and the grass
is still soft on either side

of the path that you sidled
down when you came to us

this morning. Last year,
I mean. Whenever, it’s

summer here and winter
elsewhere, simultaneously,

anyway. Looking back, who
knows what you’ll think.

5 comments:

  1. Lovely, I am intrigued and carried along by the voice. A most unusual poem and very endearing.

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  2. I love this, Hannah. What encloses and what accommodates. Beguiling as ever.

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  3. Provocative line this: "Don't confuse shelter with / trap...."

    Would love to hear this read aloud.

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  4. Every time I read one of your poems I open just a bit more.

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  5. Thank you for your thoughts on this poem, everyone.

    Amy/Cupcake....that is quite possibly the nicest compliment ever. Thank you.

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