The air is breathing softly,
and I hear last night’s rain falling
through the trees.
An umbrella sky. It
stands as tall as sunflowers.
so I hang out the bedlinen and
white cottons to dry on the line.
A small miscalculation.
A bird has flown into the clothesline.
Don’t we all make them.
Our direction. Lost.
The needle falls off our compass.
Though not like rain,
always there in the background.
The best part of being lost
is not knowing that you’re lost.
Rudderless as Wordsworth.
this bird is lost.
The bird and I,
tangled in sunshine and laundry.
This is a contrapuntal poem, where two lines of thought (or observations, or music, or two poems) are woven together. dVerse Poets explored this technique in 2018, and more information on contrapuntal poetry is available at MasterClasses. ©Misky 2022 Shared with #amwriting on Twitter
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