SF (February,4,1937 / W. Columbia, WV, USA)

A Touch Of Gold

Birds are in conversation with the dark.
They sing their elegies from power lines.
You clasp my hand to hold the music still.
Such stanzas, Friend, must not be winter lost.

Clouds picture tall gray houses in the sky,
Their windows incandescent with autumn.
You smile and say, 'It might be possible
To light our way home via red gold panes.'

With gentle skill your imagery creates,
A rare landscape for westbound travelers.
Connect me to your version of sun fall.
No one translates December quite like you.

Copyright,2008, Sandra Fowler

Published in, 'The Taj Mahal Review'

User Rating: 5,0 / 5 ( 21 votes ) 25

Comments (25)

Good write yet again Sandra 10s
Your translation of December pure Gold - l felt your tenderness weaving through the season's tapestry and visualized the walk with birds on the power line....so very good.
Beautiful imagery Sandra, a poem that oozes quality. Best wishes, Andrew
You have captured that moment between - between the autumn brilliance and the December cold. Like the moment between the in breath and the out breath - where all that is belongs. A deeply spiritual poem clothed in a beautiful garment of richly woven words. Love your birds singing their elegies from power lines. Our magpies do it all the time. love, Alison ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
Dearest Sandra, How affective this new gem is! It was sculptured by your talented art of creating images so lively! You always bring the sacred Nature to enlighten our souls, even though these birds'are in conversation with the dark.' I've enjoyed the whole poem, and particularly Fiend's reply 'It might be possible to light our way home via red gold panes.' These are strong lines, in my view. Your skills have the great power to connect us to you! Many thanks, Sandra. Warmest regards & love Maria
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