Thursday, June 26, 2008

collaborative poem

The forest sang of moans from years past,

while crumbling leaves of sorrow the blackbirds pecked for morsels--what luck!

Hidden among the knots and gnarls of bygone woes,

centuries of secrets stitched like a patchwork quilt.

Ancestors are breathing through the branches.

(note: different people from different blogs wrote each line, starting with Gary Hess and his Poem of Quotes Blog...mine is the last line here)

1 comment:

writerwoman said...

Awesome line! Thank you for linking to The Shores of My Dreams and PWB.