brass

Three Weeds

~ Christina Egan ~ Leave a comment

Three Weeds

(August Tanka)

Small flowering weed coming out of a crack between concrete surfaces.I.

Tall weed in the crack,
its flowers like little suns,
its shadow of ink.
The proud weed and its shadow,
its echo: beauty enough.

II.

Tiny weeds coming out of cracks, with their shadows.Cushion by the path,
tiny purple trefoil leaves
embroidered with stars.
The drought has tinted the green,
drawn up the blood of the earth.

III.

The dandelion
bursting from between the slabs,
Dandelion and other weeds coming out of cracks.yellow, pure yellow.
This brief bright blossom calls out,
clear like brass, like a tuba.

IV.

Three weeds I noticed
finely stitched onto the stone,
shreds of tapestry.
Three weeds I noticed today
and how many did I not?

Christina Egan © 2018

Observations from the great heat and drought of summer 2018. If only we took the time to see, to listen, to feel…

Unplanned addition to the garden. – Photographs: Christina Egan © 2020.

There’s Door on Door

~ Christina Egan ~ Leave a comment

There’s Door on Door

There’s door on door of painted wood
with potted plants and polished brass,
there’s row on row of gabled roofs,
there’s brick and plaster, hedge and grass.

There’s floor on floor of balconies,
above the din, above the dust,
inclusive of commodities,
there’s stone and concrete, steel and glass.

There’s door on door, there’s floor on floor,
but not for me, but not for me –
there’s brick and brass, there’s steel and glass,
exclusive of humanity.

There’s door on door, there’s floor on floor,
but not for us, but not for us –
one has a sofa in a store,
one has an archway in the dust.

Christina Egan © 2015