Wednesday, February 02, 2011

To little or no avail


The Wisdom Of Waiting

A string of black phoebes sit
the wooden trellis facing south
where the sun forgets it is winter.

They turn their heads in vigil as
if something were coming, some
moment they cannot arrive at.

Wind stirs wingfeathers
as they brace and keep perch,
waiting for it to appear.


Nothing comes. Sun, sea,
soundings from the meadow.
Still, they shift anxiously.

These are the days when life
pauses to consider itself, strung
along a trellis, to little or no avail.

I step out across the landing,
climb up onto the crossbeam
and settle myself among them.

Joseph Gallo
January 16, 2011



Blogger miamizsun parried...

joseph your writing never ceases to amaze me. i am in awe.

warm regards

February 15, 2011 6:53 PM  
Blogger Joseph Gallo parried...

Hey, old friend! Nice to see you. Thanks for the kind comment. I hope all is going well for you, Mr. J! Stay in touch and drop by once in a while. :-)

February 15, 2011 11:56 PM  

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