All of Our Living
There’s a jumping between trees
a slight elevation luring wings
across, along, among.
A refusal to cede
a greening back to gray
becomes part of me.
Catching my breath just after
our pneumonia those tentacles
that stay the glide, I see
the air the sky holds all of our living
holds me and my chatter, holds you.
L. Ward Abel
L. Ward Abel, poet, composer,
teacher, retired lawyer, lives in rural Georgia, has been published hundreds of times in
print and online, including Snow Jewel, The Reader, Yale Anglers' Journal,
Versal, Words for the Wild, After the Pause, Istanbul Review, others, and
is the author of one full collection and eleven chapbooks
of poetry, including Jonesing For Byzantium (UKA Press,
2006), American Bruise (Parallel Press, 2012), Little
Town gods (Folded Word Press, 2016), A Jerusalem of Ponds (erbacce-Press, 2016), Digby
Roundabout (Kelsay Books, 2017), and The Rainflock Sings Again (Unsolicited
Press, 2019).
Tags:
Poetry