("I could still call you") Poem by Cynthia Hogue
("I could still call you")
I woke with foreboding - the feeling not dispelled with waking -
and rose to catch the full moon dead center of a blue, oval window
made by foliage in the woods. Its setting so fleeting I stilled to
watch. I fought fear who once had none. Coward, I said, afraid.
No one gathered the small, wild apples stippling the ground. The
moon, a white owl flying off. The dream was I was thinking fear-
lessly.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/29/2024 6:14:30 PM # 1.0.0.1119
