- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Cruel Avenue
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Click hereWings press below hawthorns,
vision now separated
across the way.
There was song this morning,
before the pressure,
when rain began.
I walk past,
no sorrow for feathers,
for grace of slender struggle —
the worm turns.
Streams in streets
wash life down the avenue.
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copyright d. dixon
06/06/04
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- COMMENTS
GuiltyPleasureover 15 years agoI'm glad I found it now. Simply lovely. I do like poems that focus in on the minute yet open our eyes to greater things. The death of a city bird is a small thing on the face of it but a reminder of our own mortality.
Tess
Angelineover 15 years agoin spite of the brevity."The worm turns" encapsulates the vision of death on a cruel avenue. Wasn't sure what the second line meant, maybe change that. Otherwise, it's just right. :-)
