Poetry (87)

Ponderland

It is the end of the working day

And there is a delicious kind of unease at play

A gentle kind of anarchy….

 

A gusty breeze of chill mischief

(Puck embodied in Ariel’s element)

Is scattering the linden blossoms

Like the out of season

Cousin of snow,

Flung across a pavement jetty.

Like garlands of jasmine on braided hair

Or promise-laden confetti.

 

Nature is reclaiming all of us

In this one moment

Of riotousness.

I wait for the bus

And pause only just

To appreciate the cinematic beauty

And to wonder what…

Or whom, waits for me?

 

(© Copyright Pola Negri 25/04/2017)

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s