On Hearing a Lute-Player
Your seven strings are like the voice
Of a cold wind in the pines,
Singing old beloved songs
Which no one cares for any more.
The Door
You open the door
after a week away
and the January air
slides in with you
wraps its arms
around my heart
in a bear hug
and tiptoes
up my spine
nestling into that space
just behind
my eyes.
I shut the door
that is now
just a screen
unable to protect
us from winter.
~Linda Jacobs
October 19, 2007
7 comments:
Love the layers and words in this! Re-reading it was fun and rewarding...
Oh. Very nice. Here's hoping it's not autobiographical, though :-)
burrrrrrr...it is only october,,, i don't want to be this cold yet!!!!!!
Wow! 'and tiptoes up my spine'
I can see this amazing image of a spiral staircase (a spinal staircase perhaps)
and the January air!
I can feel the chill of winter here
wow I atually shivered when I read "tiptoes up my spine" because that's exactly what it feels like and same with that place right behind your eyes
Love this part:
and tiptoes
up my spine
I got shivers at those lines.
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