Steven Federle

Freshman - 605 Points (1951 / Cincinnati Ohio)

The Summons - Poem by Steven Federle

In morning
you sent
towering clouds
and fine ice driven
into spring roses,

red petals scattered
on pure white ground

and took my breath away,

so now I seek you
like death
clear and clean
in lingering day

as green and golden,
long shadows flow east
and birdsong fills
nodding trees.

I hear you

in gentle rhythm
of swaying wind
I hear my father’s
song again

empty at last

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Poem Submitted: Sunday, May 15, 2011

Poem Edited: Monday, May 16, 2011

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