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Of Scales And Tails, Feathers And Pebbles And Endless Immeasurables

Rating: 3.9

Time is a hummingbird,
building its nest, laying its eggs,
dipping its beak into flowery deeps;
a shimmering prayer, hovering in the air.

Time is a snake,
sliding over the sand, laying its eggs,
and in some fog-filled fen,
stalking its prey; a writhing dare
slithering into its lair.

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Edward Kofi Louis 23 January 2016

Into flowery deeps. Nice work.

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Sandra Fowler 21 February 2007

A superb write. Very profound thinking. You are indeed a poet worthy of the name. Write on, Mary. As always, Sandra

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Joe Hanus 27 December 2006

Mary, dear - I observed the interplay of your dear creatures. I, as a tumbleweed, at the whim of wind, follow their antics across a dry terrain and somehow will converge in your heart. Fine, dear lady, fine. - Joe Carson City, NV

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Joy Vanderhelm 10 February 2006

Absolutely Brilliant! Brilliant! Every word spoke of a millinia, a stretch in time, the last strains wrapped up the poem flawlessly. I loved the last two lines. Unbelieveable!

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