What a lovely poem to wake up to this Christmas morn, Frank--thank you!
Which I can finally pause to say, with the roast beast stuffed and in the
oven, and all the Harry Potter books unwrapped--everyone and _my_ brother
having decided that I must read them. (That's okay, they're all unwrapping
the RING trilogy by now, heh heh heh.)
Your "leans out" recalls, for me, "there are children in the morning/they
are leaning out for love/and they will lean that way forever..."
("Suzanne"). Yup, forever.
Candice
P.S. Liz, your Christmas Eve post was the last one I read before succumbing
to visions of sugarplums dancing with turkeys, so thanks for that too!
on 12/25/01 2:42 PM, Frank Parker at [log in to unmask] wrote:
> He leans out . . .
>
>
>
> 1.
> (for DG)
>
> He leans out and looks upon the open
> shiny black roads bordering the sand
>
> on the tips of his toes
> to pierce the horizon
>
> •
>
> A convertible Galaxy that's what I want
> shake rattle and roll
> my own hair
> in all directions
>
> 2.
> p o s t c a r d
>
> There are hills trees roads and
> townships
> gossip is time loving the visit,
> thinking
>
> - all
>
> 3.
> blue lupine
> green mountain
> white water songs
>
> 4.
> we see a cock
> in the Valley of the Moon
> the color of autumn vineyards
> high in a ripe persimmon tree
>
> 5.
> the tide
> sunrise in our eyes
> hearts up to the sea
>
>
> © 2001 Frank Parker
>
> Merry Christmas, Everyone.
> Good will to All,
> Frank
