Digs

[badger11]

My son
buries my feet
in sand with his red spade.
The sun's unfolding a gold-leaf
across Cardigan bay.
I dream of sleep.
He digs.

[tonyv]

Wright-like and to my liking -- there are two things that make this poem personal and thus "real": the mention of "my son" and the local reference. I was going to say that the presentation could be enhanced by the inclusion of what I call "album art" -- a picture -- but when I went to Wikipedia to read about Cardigan Bay and to look for a picture, I concluded that then the experience would, in effect, be just the opposite: the poem would enhance any picture one could find online, save a photograph from another decade, from that day; that's the only picture which could enhance the experience of this poem.

Tony

[badger11]

Thanks Tony. Wright! Thank you very much😀

[David W. Parsley]

Spare yet vivid.  Echoes of W. C. Williams here, with a healthy dose of Gary Snyder type serenity, but with a family comfort not often found in either.

Nice,
 - David

[badger11]

Thank you David. Very much appreciate the nuances of your reading.

all the best

Phil