Refuge Poem by Jonathan Aaron

Refuge



The rain lets up. Bright shafts of sunlight
plunge through shiny leaves of birch and white oak.
I turn off the lamp on my desk as the birds
start up again, a woodthrush, a baltimore oriole.
How I like it here in my cabin in the woods,
a glass of water within reach, a kettle on a shelf,
coffee in a tin if I want to brew myself a cup.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Ken Shersley 20 October 2020

Me again. It strikes me that my last comment (" I'm blind to this kind..." ;) kind of resembles the poems of John Aaron! No, I'm not saying I can write like him - just that it's possible to write 'poetry' of this kind by accident. Particularly by finishing with a short gnomic phrase. At the end.

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Ken Shersley 20 October 2020

I'm blind to this sort of 'poetry'. I like the sentiments but don't feel I'm reading poetry. Poetic notions, yes - poetry, no. It's poetic prose. Does it matter? Depends what you're looking for. Whatever, it's nice writing and leaves a nice taste in the mouth. I particularly like the one about cooking an omelette.

0 0 Reply
Michael Morgan 18 July 2014

A poem is valid if it leaves the reader waiting for the other shoe to drop. This does.

2 0 Reply
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