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Early Morning Preamble
by Kristina WoodhillI heard the he emerge
in the next door pasture this morning
a teen voice cracking,
oblivious to reaching
that last sustained tonal
sideways
notes tumbling,
catching on hexagonal fencing
bright red comb
proudly held and turgid
his long white neck
stretched to that great yolk in the sky
each vocal attempt
thrown about
like Edgar Bergen
seeking Charlie
a long way off,
still in some wood pile
05/14/2013
Posted on 05/14/2013
Copyright © 2024 Kristina Woodhill
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by George Hoerner on 05/15/13 at 04:55 PM You are so sensitive to your surroundings describe them wonderfully. I really like this one, but then I like all of your work. |
| Posted by Elizabeth Jill on 05/15/13 at 10:51 PM Kris, you have a natural flow of description that lingers + your sensitivity to surroundings, like George says, comes wonderfully through. Unforgettable. |
| Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 05/16/13 at 04:25 PM COCKLE DOODLE DOO!!! I like the way you use words and images here Kristina. ;o) |
| Posted by Laura Doom on 05/28/13 at 09:57 PM Edgar Bergen threw me; fortunately there are voices to be caught and information to be plucked from the electronic airwaves. I can appreciate your picture, at this distance from the sonic reality... |
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