“between bus stops”
Mist lifts
from the creek's dark bend;
a kingfisher
holds still
above the water.
In a cedar chest,
beneath folded linen,
a photograph curls
at the edges,
its faces turning amber.
Wind combs
the grassland ridge;
seedheads loosen,
one by one,
into the pale distance.
.
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Author:
crypticbard (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: October 5th, 2026 05:39
- Comment from author about the poem: a trisect poem
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 13
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, Tristan Robert Lange, Kevin Hulme
Offline)
Comments5
This poem a sandwich held together with the glue of emotion. It creates a soft and distant feeling in the first further developed in the second now human and finishes with a return to nature now riper in the third. The transition scarcely felt but there is a quiet aging here a melancholy sense of the past. Well done and so subtly done
A most welcome reading dear Soren! Thank you so much for always sharing your poetic journey 🙏🏻🕊️
Always a pleasure my friend
beautifully moulded piece
Thanks Norman, that mean a lot! 🙏🏻🕊️
most welcome
Good write A.
Thanks O
I really liked this, arqios. It has that strange feeling of catching something just before it disappears, even though you’re not quite sure what you caught. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
It could be imagined, perhaps, as catching fireflies in the meadow, blindfolded.
It's the Photograph that is intriguing. For me the Story right there.
A fave.
Oh nice. Thanks for bringing that up, Kevin 🙏🏻🕊️
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