Thursday, February 17, 2011

Prologue

I grow to my age
dreaming of women
who test landscapes
brittle with risk

Women who celebrate
their bodies
straining to limits
like archers
drawing taut bows

Women whose hands
hold granite mountains,
their feet on ledges
fingertips holing stone

Women who know
the suck of loneliness
in solitude

5 comments:

  1. Linda, I love the first stanza.
    It says much. We should grow into
    our age.

    Pamela

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  2. I especially love the image I get from the 2nd stanza, Linda.

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  3. I'd love to read the whole collection.

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  4. Wonderfully well said - looking forward to your chapbook.

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