Laughter
Caught between stone and glass
Tangled about pillars
Twisting through the branches of trees
Echoing from one person to another
As they bring their joy into spring
Their joy is more poignant more precious
Than all the natural joy of spring
For although it is now caught
Out in the open air
It is at times dead
Dead as the bird decomposing by the swamp
Dry as the brittle bark on the hole-ridden stump
So now as it calls across the grass to me
I answer and know
How beautiful, how strong
How deep is that joy that laughs
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THE GOODS
You're currently reading a chapter in the story
A bird sings the ending of the day. This chapter
was posted on July 17, 2008 by
FogCat.
This is a collaborative story.
This story is filed under:
Poetry
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