Friday, 12 February 2010

re POEM 20


Bright flag flaps
high on pole
disappearing with clouds
the shade of coal.

The gnomes below
in circus colours
loop the ground, round
and round in crop circle

puzzle. Lingering
between the flag and gnomes
is the sweet smell of plantains
from Mother’s kitchen.

Catherine Mark

1 comment:

Gerry Boyd said...

Rocky juxtaposition and, then, sweet salvation in the final line. Don't flag now [;-)]! You can do it. Bravo!