10.21.2015

Intercalation

My fall was so gradual
it went unnoticed, like crows-feet eyes
not fond of mirrors or the slow
leak of hours requiring an extra day
come February. Crows can fly
and we manipulate time to recognize
seasons but that woman is unfamiliar,
the one in the sweater, arms crossed
against October chill. After twelve
leap-years you’d think I’d sprout wings,
take a shot at the sun, evolve. But I’m
no leapling and prefer the shade,
leggy and shorn of blooms. Plus,
it’s simpler to languish than to fly
and be recognized, belly feathers
to frostbitten ground, a fallen woman
beckoning inward for returned Grace.

Late entry for Karin's prompt to the Real Toads: FALLING INTO LINES

8 comments:

  1. The beginning hooks you in so well when reading. the crow's feet then leaping into the trees.. like we want to fly but at the end we are all tied to soil aren't we

    ReplyDelete
  2. Some changes do seem like additions rather than something latent inside us like the taste of great wines and cheeses. Other changes feels like subtractions (slow leaks) and "shorn of blooms." I love the progression of this poem. In the end I wonder if it is a choice or whether Jung was right in positing an amazing 2nd half of life when our urges move from external to internal?

    ReplyDelete
  3. I really enjoyed this angst-ridden piece. "It's simpler to languish," yes...been there. "You'd think I'd sprout wings..." what a thought:)

    ReplyDelete
  4. Oh, how insidious your protagonist's fall. Beautifully described and empathised.

    ReplyDelete
  5. Sometimes, actually, too often, I live here "it’s simpler to languish than to fly." I keep lying to myself that it is just normal aging. Ha, even I didn't laugh.

    ReplyDelete
  6. I love this poem, Marian. the introspection is so honest, so in tune with human frailty yet somehow comforting to know that we all fall under the stroke of the clock upon the hour.

    ReplyDelete
  7. This was like a fine liquor that O slowly imbibed, enjoying the tipsy, intoxicating glow. Exquisite. Thanks.

    ReplyDelete
  8. This is a comforting lullaby for me today. Languishing. Languishing.
    Xox

    ReplyDelete