Wednesday, September 30, 2009

outside

i don't know who
i am
or where it is from which i came.

all that i know is
that i
recognise
your
soft voice,

like a shetland pony

on an old
and windswept moor-
dancing in the rugged
outside

holding
only
a
battered
wooden drum.
Posted by at 3:26 AM
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2 comments:

  1. Oh, I love the imagery of this- the shetland pony, the windswept moor, the battered drum- all fit together perfectly to make this one perfect poem... :)
    I am so glad I found you, Kerri- you are inspirational. Your simply beautiful poetry speaks to me.
    x
    ReplyDelete
  2. EVERYTHING about this.

    but especially the drum.
    shamanic and nostalgic.
    ReplyDelete

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