Arcs Of Reeds Poem by Felix Bongjoh

(i)

Let arcs of reeds
from a drifting hill
push and shoot
down slow breezes

to glue leaves
and twig-wigged flowers
to trees wearing

whispers of time,
as cows moo
through sheathes of grass
to tighten a basket weave

held by herringbone
weaves of hands
to seat a basket of flowers.

(ii)

On wheels and hoofs
we roll and trot
to the doors of shepherds
driving a foggy flock

of the wool that warms
us within closed-in
palisades rolling along

contours bordering
on the curling river
to take us to a window
that sings, a sailing wren

drifting to its space off
the buzzing arches
of floating bloating bees.

Larks skip and shift
tobogganing down ladders
and staircases of air,

skies drinking sparks
under a brown-baked sheathe
spitting out shreds of night.

(iii)

Let us stand
on the hill
with sturdy lengthened
swinging fibers

and threads of breath
growing tall
for the stool planted

to seat the swirling
sunlit basket
carrying your winks

under the dazzling
noon blooming
with crystal mirrors.

(iv)

Spun and flipped over,
I'm nestled
cocooned stars
and the open-eyed moons
of your face beams

polished to glow
with a lake's rippled skin

breathing in strokes
from the hands
that never dive back

behind the screen
of slippery time
on spinning wheels,

as I tramp on carpets of shadows
trailing past silhouettes.