This Poem was Submitted By: Sara Catherine Blaise On Date: 2000-06-03 22:27:33 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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Down On The Pond

Beneath the shade of willows in the west, reeds stand tall  out of water, where deadfall dams a little falls, birds perch on broken limbs, sing down the sun.  We sit on the grassy knoll, damp as sweat, tell creek tales in between the civilized speak of politics and social grace as day descends,  down on the pond. The Arabian comes to drink, smell our pockets for orange sticks or round, red orbs, or just a hand to stroke his brow. He reaches from behind, lights his lips across my cheek. And the herd converges on this resort, pulls up close as cropped grass, commands us to our feet,  seeks confirmation at the close  of another day.

Copyright © June 2000 Sara Catherine Blaise


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