Friday, August 11, 2017

OTI:one poem:8/11/17

Open To Interpretation


Here then a fortunate geography,
The sprawling shore line of my tiny Town
Fetches up against both Mountains and Sea--
Oh, Town's not tiny, I'm being a clown.

It can be said Town's a wondrous feat,
More than all the air and water and stone--
Oh here, follow my feckless fawn's conceit:
Town's much bigger than that other Dog's bone.

Here or there, one round Moon or distant Star,
Molten afire, cold as forgotten,
Are the same as nothing to my Town's Car
With us riding between Sea and Mountain.

Here we are beneath the tall pine tree's sway
Watching the wind blown sail boats on the bay.




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