Put your listening out the door
all is instrumental
rain percussive patterings
birds stringplucking
flute spooling hollows and decrescending hills
brass blossoms blow in lip pursing blasts
streams strumrunning between tympanic banks
walk along paths woodwhistling
beat your heart upstanding
with your fists muffle bound and highheld over head
like those jumping drummers do
yawns are yodelling with throats come uncoupled
music all alive and humming
in the garden
I like ve the music and rhythm in this poem.
ReplyDeleteI wrote love above and my iPad rewrote it!
ReplyDeleteSweet, Mikaela. It sounds so good that I wonder what the occasion is!
ReplyDeleteNo occasion! it was getting late and I had no poem for posting so I went and read some of my favourite e e Cummings.
DeleteLove this: streams strumrunning between tympanic banks
ReplyDeleteAnd I'm going to take up woodwhistling :)
woodwhistling has entered my vocabulary too! Your poem makes me want to skip.:)
ReplyDelete