Virginia Slachman: Eden Park Meditation

Underfoot Poetry

Eden Park Meditation

How odd that the days lengthen; the hours
braced against a brittle sun that sears
the lip of ice at the base of the black oak.
                                         The ice and the sun
are opaque and impenetrable,
a sealed world. This world. The days don’t dwindle

into twilight but linger so silently
we hardly notice the future
in these perplexed angles of
light.                         Later, at the feet

of the boxwood, night rustles anxiously, or is it
merely the wind. No, there are certain tensions.
The night wants what it is owed.

Mornings, I walk the circular pond and the pond stares back.
I won’t go near enough to see
the distorted reflection staring up at me
                                                         The sky is there;

clouds shunt past, rapid as recognition, the sky a blank
eye as is the sun. I stand at the edge, I am
                                                                 a poor…

View original post 1,472 more words


Categories: Blog, Writers/Artists

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.