Tuesday, March 27, 2018

Flight--By Greg Gregory--United States

Flight

The soft sandstones
of these deserts,
their soft names whispered - 
Mojave, Sonora -
delicate bird bones left there,
bones delicate as a song or
soft desert names, become
hollow, like flutes, like bones
filled with air, containing sky.

They gradually erode, go back 
into soft dust
softly, softly on the earth
until the desert
breathes flight into them
once again, in evening, in twilight
they disappear into air, into a poem
in a soft southern wind.

Greg Gregory has been published in the US, Canada, and the UK in publications including California Quarterly, The Aurorean, and Avocet.  Born in Washington, DC, Greg lived 14 years in the San Francisco Bay area.  Greg currently lives and writes in Sacramento, California with his wife, Rita.

4 comments:

  1. Dear Greg,

    You wrote a 'muse me' poem, very creative the way a new poem arises.
    Thanks for sharing.

    Best wishes,
    Inge

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  2. Greg, I could picture the dried bones turning to dust and taking flight with the wind. Quite a unique write. I really enjoyed it.
    Thank you for sharing a well written poem.
    Sincerely,Charlene

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  3. this has an air of gentle mystery-- intriguing yet, complex

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