Crossing the path between March and
April
An unexpected gust of turbulent wind
Lifts the wreckage of my smoke white hair
Raggedly into a halo,
Backlit by the sun.
I take a selfie - then wince at the result -
No scarecrow could ever look as wild as I do
This blustery morning - the dawn birds
disallowing the quiet
I had lately learned to cherish
In the wintry months
When I sat nose deep in books.
I laugh at my preposterous appearance
Recorded far too candidly by my camera, then
swipe it quick to trash.
When I was young I was often neater and sprucer
than any Pre- Raphaelite Angel.
Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
30th. March 2023.
the image goes beautifully with the write. Nice one.
ReplyDeletePainting and poem both done this afternoon and evening, and in that order. I am looking for a way to rite poems that are more genuinely spiritual but not mawkishly traditional, but don`t really know how to do it yet. Concentrating full time on art, whatever the inconveniences, is the only way to get things properly done. Thank you Malcolm for your positive response.
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