Thursday, September 28, 2006

Poetry Thursday

I haven't posted for Poetry Thursday for ages, but there has been a poem playing in my head this week. I'm not following the prompt, but this is the poem that wants me to share it today:

Birdfoot's Grampa

The old man

must have stopped our car

two dozen times to climb out

and gather into his hands

the small toads blinded

by our light and leaping,

live drops of rain.

The rain was falling,

a mist about his white hair

and I kept saying

you can't save them all,

accept it, get back in

we've got places to go.

But, leathery hands full

of wet brown life,

knee deep in the summer

roadside grass,

he just smiled and said

they have places to go, too.

by

Joseph Bruchac

8 comments:

Letha Sandison said...

This is so great Meg, thank you for sharing!!

I have missed you. I am trying to reemerge :)

XOXOXO

HoBess said...

Just read your TV post and then this. My how they seem to go hand in hand! Sometimes you just have to stop ... stop rushing ... stop moving ... just stop like the old man. And there's no better place to stop than in the arms of someone you love. Enjoy ... soon your hands will be back on the wheel driving those characters across the keyboard and onto your hard-drive. Love to you ---

Laini Taylor said...

Oh, I love it! Lovely! Driving with my sister is like that. I have a picture of her with a huge skink in her hands, rescued off the road. Snakes, lizards, frogs, whatever!

Meg said...

This is exquisite, megg. I love its simplicity, yet it really evokes some tender images in my mind.

la vie en rose said...

...i like this...

sophie said...

awwwwwwwwwwwwwww!!!!

LOVE it:)

liz elayne said...

this poem is wondrous my friend.

wow.

(Ni)mo.Ni said...

sweet. "live drops of rain" awesome.