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Poetry Magnum Opus



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Comfortable in the shade on my deck,


cold libation in hand, I enjoy the light


westerly breeze passing through crystal


clear air.



Across one green valley, I push aside


the heavy curtain of mountains, a little


more blue than the backdrop of sky,


for a peek at the next valley alike.



I stop to examine the stone foundation


of Act One, its lines that change


by the minute, impossible to memorize


for more than seconds.



I drop the shale and even granite folds


to float back near the surface, the greens


becoming lighter as the blue air mixes


and blends smoothly.



All around me, forms built and grown


over too many years soak into my


thoughts, soothing, comfortable,


familiar and protecting.



My drink has grown warm.

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  • 2 weeks later...

Franklin, sometimes I feel like I'm there, too. It must come with age (seriously, no offense meant). I look back on my own years, upon times when everything seemed to be more turbulent, from a present "soothing, comfortable, familiar and protecting" place and realize My drink has grown warm. I love this poem.

Here is a link to an index of my works on this site: tonyv's Member Archive topic

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