Sunday, October 2, 2016

Lucy Alexander #32 Lichen

Is that a warmth of day
filtering out the sky’s own cold
the living rock
remembering last millennia
where the  cascade
rang the voice box
of the water?

The muscle of fungus
grips the digits of algae
a natural event
spanning outwards
eggshaped in a shell
of clam fluted edges
frilling out the
heat in the air
the promise of

endless change.


  1. fascinating poem — my Dad was a lichenologist, very strange plants

  2. " frilling out the heat" beautiful imagery here, Lucy. I love lichens. More, please:)


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