Tag: poem

in the queue waiting for the bus autumn bees

caught in the act crows preening on lamppost

long drive down the subconscious freeway

stranded in bed the autumn lava rises

she brings gifts: of clay soil, chewed pulp and songs from the wild

with open arms the wilderness enters our home

the concrete and our lives now part of her hive

the potter hums shaping the curves of her nest

the architect hovers room to room looking for the perfect spot to erect her fortress

ghosts scraping at an empty terracotta hive