Virginia
native Phyllis Johnson fell in love with the rhythm and sound of words
at an early age. A toy typewriter reinforced that love of words. Today
she is a newspaper columnist, photojournalist, and published author of
three books. Her fourth book, cowritten with Nancy Naigle (Until We Meet Again),
is a young adult suspense novel, Inkblot. This book is the first in a
series called Headline Hunters. To find out more about Phyllis and her
varied projects, go to her web site.
Does this poem put you in mind of the bayou? Does it make you think
about how quickly things can change? Does it make you think of tides
and currents and things that drift? Does it call someone specific to
mind?
Drifting Wood
By Phyllis Johnson
A boat drifts out,
eyes on the horizon,
fingers caress ripples.
One reaching out
to touch a branch,
grasping hold
of what’s drifting away.
The current moves on,
fingers lose grip,
splinters find flesh.
A breeze blows,
tossing hair into eyes
now misty like rain.
Stumps protrude
A danger in sight
Skirting that spot
Like an albatross
Yet grasping for wings
Now flapping away
I love this. It reminds me of so many plesant times on the water. This writer is at ease with her penmanship.
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