(A Synchronistic Poem)
It dowses dregs of winter days
rod’s divinity dips its lips
with mine.
It fishes deep in summer days
reel casts wild-yonder-blue sea spray
o’er me.
It rakes with gold in autumn days
leaves spiral, spin with hair cascades
of mine.
It aims the buds in ripe spring days
blossom’s stamen fires arrows straight
to me.
It dowses, fishes, rakes, and aims
the winter, summer, autumn, spring
o’er me.
In dead of night, in light of day
it sails beyond the seven seas
with me.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~
'It' is poetry’s images
where my rhapsodies ebb and flow
and yet.
My darling you’re at every port
although you’re half a world away
from me.
Karin Anderson © 2010