Swaying reeds of rhythm,
Echoing waves of rhyme;
The pond becomes a concert
When the moon is in her prime.
A chorus of croaks from the lily pads,
A choir of crickets on shore;
The pond is tuning up again,
Come hear the music soar!
©Charles Ghigna
8 comments:
I love iet when the pond tunes up. :) Esp. nice thought on this chilly morn.
Thank you for hosting Poetry Friday
...and for pondering my pond! ;-)
Oh, the words "ponder" and "pond" should spend more time together!
Thanks, Shoshana.
I want to read your "pond/ponder" poem when it's ready!
I love your poems and can't wait to show them to my 7-year-old poetry lover.
(A ponder/pond poem of sorts)
When the day gives way to wander
I can trek to towns beyond or
simply sit beside a pond or
just a rain-created lake,
for there's naught of which I'm fonder
than daydream carried yonder
when it's up to me to ponder
just the shape my time will take.
Thanks, Shoshana!
Great poem! Great lines!
"...there's naught of which I'm fonder
than daydream carried yonder
when it's up to me to ponder..."
Ponder on! Ponder on!
Thank you! I'm glad you like it!
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