The praise of the past
The secrets of the present
The panic of the moon
The smoke of the sun
The salmon of December
The incredible darkness of bravery
The flaming fire of my imagination
The slithering snakes of thirst
The bobcat of the North,
and the quiet truth of Indian blue
Open your eyes,
the leaves of the little oak...
are blooming.
Nick Petrov
Monday, October 15, 2007
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Which line do you like the most, Nick?
ReplyDeleteThe poem was great! The last 3 were my favorite.
ReplyDeleteProbably "The quiet truth of Indian blue" or "The slithering snakes of thirst".
ReplyDelete