by Elizabeth Poreba
Like the old friend who calls
only to tell you about herself,
the mind does all the talking.
It's so interesting.
Besides, it thinks
that the soul is not very bright.
In its place among the many mansions,
the mind doubts that the soul
would know where to hang the pictures.
The mind is almost ready to give up on the soul,
except it hears a humming somewhere,
something knit and moving together,
like a great tree in full leaf.
--Published in Poetry East No. 60, Fall 2007
This is my silent poetry reading for the Bloggers Celebration of the Feast of St. Brigid. I miss it every year, but thanks to Chris for the reminder today.
1 comment:
You're welcome! Excellent poemage there. :)
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