is a day of
scrunched-up ducklings
pushing tentative ripples
in tepid shallows
of grandmas
and grandsons
tracing leaf-patterns
with sticks
of crucifixion on a lawn
of close cropped daisies
of geese circling
like high white battleships
alert for dropped
icecream cones.
Tuesday is a day
to roll up in a ball
and hurtle down hillsides
after the sun.
Happy 1st Birthday, Tuesday poem! I've posted (a little late) something I wrote a few years ago after spending a sun drenched afternoon in one of my favourite writing spots in the Auckland Domain. A little spot of warmth to hold on to now the weather's started to turn cold and windy again (after five months of being able to wear skirts with bare legs - I'm not complaining). For more Tuesday birthday poems, click here.
3 comments:
I like the scrunched-up ducklings very much and the wheeling geese like battleships. The whole light, rolling, innocent, sweet springness about the poem is lovely.
Ah, I like it ... especially that last stanza.
The concept of a "Tuesday Poem" intrigues, especially since my personal history with Tuesdays is not a positive one. I'd be quite content hurtling Tuesdays down a hillside. There is a tension about them. I'll follow for further commentary on this most irritating of weekdays and will also plug my own blog, entirely separate and apart from Tuesdays: matzohandmeatballs.blogspot.com.
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