Poetic Shutterbug

Photo courtesy of The Shutterbug Eye POMEGRANATE Here you are — alive. Would you like to make a comment? - Mary Oliver One ruby seed as a memento – already lost in lush March grass trampled into mud by hooves or swarmed by a squabble of flies. This morning, as if still asleep in a dream parallel to daylight, you walked the pasture among horses perfectly at home, not wishing anything. Snow-drops on a stalk, wild iris in the meadow. Split husk of pomegranate – you dropped one seed, translucent as sunrise, ghost of Persephone’s globed fruit – as you walked between sky and earth that bears your footprints, a seed, an unsent letter.

Photo by DK Miller of the Shutterbug Eye @ theshutterbugeye.blogspot.com GRANDPA REMEMBERS The river in its rippling sheen of patterns green and silver, blue with sky, rocks, trees inverted, sound of silkworms on mulberry leaves, soft water-sounds of Mother spinning, reeling threads from boiled cocoons twisted into yarn, spools he holds as she weaves a fabric, then knits the silk to stockings for so many children in that low-built room by fire- light, shadows in the upper loft – no attic in her house of rich scarcity, of getting along with God’s blessings. A cushion if a guest should call... the childhood home a man can never see again. How far he travels, year by sunny afternoon before he finds this very night’s bed, and lets sleep’s river-currents over-flow his mind. By: Taylor Graham