Perfect Casting by Kristina Woodhill Oh, little worm My gentle earthly friend Soft Lumbricus terrestris Enricher of my land What were you thinking As you wound and twirled your tail into this dried and perfect curlique I hold now in my hand? Did you then feel the drip-drops, drip-drops Sense the subtle soaking Of your soilÂ’s safe caverns deep? Was this perhaps a monsoon moment Forcing up and outward motion Finding you awash in notions Amidst and mixing with your cast-offs Outside your castle keep Did this flood of realizing Prick that point in even you To leave behind that inner spark That soul of soilÂ’s deep longings dark To be more Than what the robinÂ’s eye, The fisherÂ’s hook, The gardenerÂ’s till Expect from you And rising up Your Cirque de la Terre Your spinning, twisting act in air Played on this concrete SculptorÂ’s slab You chose the closest stage at hand SunÂ’s soon drying kiln And left for me This perfect piece of art Of you 03/25/2006 Posted on 03/25/2006 Copyright © 2024 Kristina Woodhill Member Comments on this Poem Posted by Elizabeth Jill on 03/26/06 at 05:15 PM You are divine, divinely inspired and inspiring! Oh, to be a sprout, a sand, a no-see-um, an anything! —in your garden, with eyes such as yours "Cirque de la Terre"—ing upon me! Posted by Charles E Minshall on 04/01/06 at 01:37 AM Funtastic poem Kris...Charlie Return to the Previous Page   pathetic.org Version 7.3.2 May 2004 Terms and Conditions of Use 0 member(s) and 2 visitor(s) online All works Copyright © 2024 their respective authors. Page Generated In 0 Second(s)