Every few months, I repost this poem by Connie. It represents an ideal for me. I don't wish to imitate Connie, but I do wish I could conceive and execute a poem with such distinctiveness, coherence, flair. To me, this poem is so beautiful.
I dream, now...
In the forest of blue heron
On the whitest of white nights
The moon clouds pass
As laden caravanserai.
Cedar shadow calligraphy
Communicates what no human can
Cygnets sleep in sepia wash
In fearless surrender.
Darkness and I stroll among these
gardens within myself.
Sip wine, exchange no thoughts.
Copyright © 2009 -- Constance Stadler
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