16 July 2018 poem


To befuddle people
a feather suspends
its generally downward flight
and remains at eye level
a little left of the swings
in the park with the century oaks
and three daffodils that sprouted
on a frosty, ex-girlfriend, July morning.

After much debate by the gathering crowd
the feather is proclaimed a dove’s tail feather
halted mid-waft.

More debate ensues about miracles
and temporal distortion of time
and the destruction of world peace
and other symbolic meanings
imaginative minds attach to such transgressions
of Newtonian physics.

No telling what might be made of this occasion
if it took place in Roswell, New Mexico.

The three daffodils remain ignored
by the crowd, by the ducks that appear to be part of the lake,
by the dogs busy sniffing a birch trunk,
but not by a solitary carpenter bee
who vanishes inside each daffodil
and reappears yellow tinged.

copyright © 2018 Kenneth  P. Gurney


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