Li-Young-Lee’s voice
is like listening itself,
a small soft bird alight
just touching
golden plum
liquid amber leaves
with his feathers.
Honey mellows
and clarifies
the moment in songs
of sorrow and loss.
Parents straddle continents
of feeling and memory
with imperfect courage.
Apple blossoms
float within
an eastern breeze,
as the rascal sleep
enters a small room
where two boys through
an open window
dream.
No comments:
Post a Comment