Friday, June 18, 2010

First IPad Poem



What if, instead of dying flowers, perfume

smelled like mountaintops, like granite


and fir-filtered wind?  Breezes lift our feet

from the rock and fragrance-scented air


buoys us up over golden rows of mountains.

You laugh like a child taking his first step


out onto the taut surface of water

and instead of sinking, we skate


on that tensile surface that quivers

like my heart when you reach


the long pin freathers of your wings

and wrap them all light and tickle


and remember around me.




Mary Stebbins Taitt

first poem on Ipad,

1000618-1557-2b(3), 100617

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