Herbie Mann Comin' Home

Saturday, October 16, 2010

Getaway
















At the party, Chopin nocturnes in my head,

Someone snuffing-out candles of a cake,

Confident, uncasual men, decision dons

Intent on business, parley at the bowl of punch.


Needing air, I duck past cupboards in the kitchen,

Ledge over the top of the Dutch door,

Finding a summer pellicle of cottonwood

Like snow on the electric walkway bulbs.


My loafers, then my socks, grind at the gravel,

Smudge against the custard of the milkweed --

Away from the unconcern by those indoors,

Mock-identical with nature, here I'm hushed.


.

8 comments:

  1. nice....sometimes you just need to get away from it all and nature (for me at least) is often the best place to go...nice magpie!

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  2. Brian,

    Thank you. We all do know 'pressure'. We all have a 'place away', my friend!

    TFool

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  3. we all have been exhausted by by the social whirl and felt strangers in our own circle, i think this need for touching what's deepest is salutary, it's another way to love people, to love better. strong poem.

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  4. a gentle tale,
    well put.
    beautiful imagery.

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  5. orfeenix,

    Thank you for this support! I rely on your good grace and sympathetic readings!

    (Sometimes it's not even a 'whirl', this social thing, of commitment, of obligation, of intrusive ritual. Rather outside, gentle, among the speechless stones.)

    Trulyfool

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  6. Jingle,

    Welcome to the comments here, and thank you!

    TFool

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  7. I could hear your loafers on the gravel. Nice, evocative write, Mr. T. Beautiful, in fact.

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  8. Willow,

    Thank you! That's high praise. (I tend to reach for images, go for the small.)

    TFool

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