But what if I said this to someone far away? Wouldn’t that person wonder . . . ? (But maybe that’s the point.)
Still here. Sweet spring rain all night last night
Brought birds, brought grass and the deepest green
To my porch this morning where I stood in dawn
Light, vague & dreamy, hoping to believe what I have seen
And see still down deep where the heart of all life
Warms and wakens every spirit, every soul.
I love the poem, Albert. I felt transported by it, and that’s a gift.
I don’t think I understand your question. What if you said *what* to someone far away? You mean, what would happen if you called up someone on the phone and they said, “Hey Albert, what’s up?” and you replied, “Still here. Sweet spring…” etc?
The “Still here” fragment started off as a note for someone, an individual rather than an anonymous reader, but I quickly realized that it would be better as a finished poem, so it’s still sitting there somewhere inside, waiting. Meanwhile, I wrote a “normal” letter, which included a comment about how fresh early mornings in spring remind me of vital friendships.
Comment rules: name and email required; website not required. No more than 2 links, please. Markdown is enabled. Enclose with 1 asterisk for italics, or 2 asterisks for bold. Cancel reply
Slow Literature 
But what if I said this to someone far away? Wouldn’t that person wonder . . . ? (But maybe that’s the point.)
Still here. Sweet spring rain all night last night
Brought birds, brought grass and the deepest green
To my porch this morning where I stood in dawn
Light, vague & dreamy, hoping to believe what I have seen
And see still down deep where the heart of all life
Warms and wakens every spirit, every soul.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I love the poem, Albert. I felt transported by it, and that’s a gift.
I don’t think I understand your question. What if you said *what* to someone far away? You mean, what would happen if you called up someone on the phone and they said, “Hey Albert, what’s up?” and you replied, “Still here. Sweet spring…” etc?
LikeLike
Yes, that ‘s it: poem-talk. Freaky?
The “Still here” fragment started off as a note for someone, an individual rather than an anonymous reader, but I quickly realized that it would be better as a finished poem, so it’s still sitting there somewhere inside, waiting. Meanwhile, I wrote a “normal” letter, which included a comment about how fresh early mornings in spring remind me of vital friendships.
LikeLike
I think a lot of people would think it freaky. I’m just saying, I wish thing were in such a state that no one would see it that way. 🙂
Again, it’s beautiful.
LikeLike