Hazy trailing of one's fingers
Through hanging boughs
In Uncle Vanya's garden
The heat of summer
Dragging at one's feet
Supine beneath the willow
Hand on forehead
Springing turf to rest on as a pillow
Ambition lost
A passive giving in
To giving up
Desultory emptying of the cup
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Author:
Lorna (
Offline) - Published: August 17th, 2021 05:15
- Comment from author about the poem: For LB - Ennui
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 61
- Users favorite of this poem: L. B. Mek, rebmasters.
Offline)
Comments7
Lovely evocative words Lorna - Sadly not much summer weather here in UK!
Thank you! Enjoy your day weather or no.............
Good write Lorna.
simply, Awesome!
'The heat of summer
Dragging at one's feet
Supine beneath the willow
Hand on forehead
Springing turf to rest on as a pillow'
(a beautifully vivid depiction
and such an immersive read
despite its melancholic feel,
thank you dear poet)
Ennui: Indeed, 😉
But Lorna , I'm still not sure if Uncle Vanya flogged off the estate or not.. ..
A bit attention seeking with that vial, wasn't he?
He ran off to down under to see the Southern Cross............
Did he get in before lock down? I hope customs searched his baggage properly .. they are in enough trouble here, don't want his corpse in hotel quarantine...
Rich little write, BTW.
Thank you for sharing
Resting in the sun can be so inspiring.
Andy
if you want...
Uncle Vania sold his garden
and bought a cherry orchard
knowing that the spring
will dress in white just for him
the clouds are crying
without giving up the blue of the sky
as for boredom
it's not an obligation.
it's a state of affairs
which urges to
introspection
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