Saturday, December 17, 2016

Mikaela Castledine #350 Snow Globe

New flowers for the old house
ticking quiet in the morning
dustmoting movements tracked
cool the shadows rest the wooden joints
exhale the petals
until one drops pling
like the muffle of a single note played
by a winding spring
with a ringing
that may only be in your ear
and also you can hear
the call of cyclists to each other
on the road outside
in the turning world
which seems now glass and dome complete
inside of which there is this house
inside of which is me (holding the flowers
cut from my garden and brought)
and inside of me there is the house again
and the flowers
and the curling scrape of leaves winddrawn
across the brickwork in the courtyard
that blow like they've been shaken


  1. Just wonderful. I love the effect of the rhymes.

  2. Thank you so much everyone. It was the strangest thing to stand in the house I grew up in - that I have decluttered and put on the market, and feel like I was in some tiny little enclosed universe. I think the odd echoing quiet had something to do with it.


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