Jean McLeod’s most recent poem to appear here was Safety (April 2012).
History Gone Cold
By Jean McLeod
On a day rumored weatherless
air still as a monk’s prayer
the last morning star
holds its breath
on the branch
of a finely drawn-tree.
A milk-blue sun
the color of the old man’s veins
cools in the sky.
As memory silhouettes his past
he attempts new realities
from the grime and stubble of yesterday.
His fingers reach for fools’ gold in fog
a glint of worth or righteousness
and come up damp and empty.
He stumbles, folded double
with the pain of his finite star.
Love the imagery, especially “weatherless air as still as a monk’s prayer.”
I love your magnificent poem!! You are the BEST! Genius!!
Bobbie Troy, thank you so much! Since I enjoy your work, it makes me happy that you see value in mine!
Jeanette, Thank you for your kind words; they give validation that it is okay to continue to write. Jean
Well, Jean, I am flattered. The nice thing about vox poetica is the comaraderie. I love this site more than any other poetry site.
Great job, Jean.