About songs acknowledging the feeling

A song is a skipping stone
on a bone-still lake,
roads deep
dropping into the stomach 
of the found.

One hundred times
a water kiss —
the head tilt familiar
naming something 
for the city sunset hungry.

Then the submerge —
playing fish-scales 
down
as lonely bubbles and calling bells
meet 
in new and old voices. 


LJ Ireton, March 2026.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Boleyn in the storm

The still morning

Any frozen spirit