all the tiny stories in one intoxicating stream,
catching each other’s sparkle,
now, before the taste disappears.
~Lesley Wheeler
Seagull Egg by Sonse
A poem by Lesley Wheeler today.
Inland Song
by Lesley Wheeler
In some kind houses the doors
never quite shut. Every table
hosts a bowl of eggs—wooden ones
or striped stone, cool to touch.
What could grow in an egg like that?
A day becomes a story becomes a bird,
a lost seagull who shrinks each time
I describe him. Watch him fold
his filigree wings, crawl into
the shell. His song wasn't much,
but he tries to swallow it,
as if he can retreat...
read the rest here
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Writing the World for Kids has the Poetry Friday round-up. Thanks, Laura!
9 comments:
It's been a quiet Poetry Friday. The poem you shared seems to fit that mood well. I never realized how beautiful seagull eggs are, and even more so after reading Lesley Wheeler's poem! I especially love these lines:
Pain
and consolation grow next
to each other, in some kind
countries.
It's funny how the mind makes associations--this post made me recall Margaret Wise Brown's The Golden Egg Book.
I don't think I ever saw a seagulls egg before, it has a lovely mottled coloring. This line soars,
"A day becomes a story becomes a bird,"
Thanks for introducing me to Lesley Wheeler, Tabatha!
"In some kind houses the doors
never quite shut",
"pain and consolation grow next to each other",
and
"a day becomes a story becomes a bird"
make for very thoughtful moments for me.
Thanks for sharing this.
I don't pretend to understand this poem, but I like the feeling I get from it, of introspection, of surrealness, of the importance of kindness and of letting things be what they are. I especially love the filigree wings and "A day becomes a story becomes a bird,
a lost seagull who shrinks..." Thanks, Tabatha!
"A day becomes a story becomes a bird" is my favorite line, too.
Thanks for sharing this lovely poem--I didn't know Lesley Wheeler, but I hope to read more of her poems. This one has so many lovely, thoughtful lines. I think my favorite is about nettles and dock--"Pain and consolation grow next to each other, in some kind countries" "A day becomes a story becomes a bird" is also a very striking image.
I've stolen that line "a day becomes a story becomes a bird" for a later poem. Just too good to let it go by.
One more sigh for
"Pain
and consolation grow next
to each other"
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