Day #66: Pictures and a Poem

#66

Not sure how warm it got today, but I do know it is 6 and there is still light out my windows.  I also know we have to Spring forward tonight.  It was a pretty perfect picture taking day today.  

3/7/2010

          3/7/2015

Think we have more snow this year?  I think my birch trees have grown, too.

I Am A Boat

1

I am a boat now

I know no anchor

A thousand fish swim through me

They say the body

          Accepts any kind of sorrow

Like seedlings erupting through cement

I saw the bear dancing at the circus

          When I was small

We were in it for the honey

Your mouth opens clean as a cat’s

But my own skin is thin as the

          Skin of dried grass

I want to sleep the sleep of apples

2.

I am a boat with no anchor

And holes through my skin

          as frail and thin as dried grass.

Fish, at least a thousand

          Swim through me daily

          As I sleep the sleep of apples

And my body accepts any kind of sorrow

They thought we were in it for the honey

          Or the clover, or to see the

          Bear dance once again on

          The decks as we sailed

          to join the cirus.

3.

My body can accept any kind of sorrow

Like a boat with no anchor and

Frail dried skin.

A thousand fish swim past me

As I sleep the winter sleep of

Apples dropped on the ground

Where bears dance for honey

When they’re small.

4.

I accept my skin frail and dried as grasses

Before the winter storms arrive

And fish have a chance to swim on by

And bears dance near honey combs and bees rush

I accept my skin as the leather skin of a canoe.

With no anchor needed and sorrows building up

In a place where my body accepts them,

Embraces them.

I accept the creaking of my joints

And the need for sleep

And the roar in the back of my head.

I accept that seedlings grow through cement.