Wednesday 1 May 2019


River Wading                                                         

by Lisa Fields


Standing tall,
cottonwoods
thread the sun
through high branches
to feed the flickering          
soft shades of green—
in their cloth of light                                       
feathers lift
and scatter
sweet notes

Reaching down,
roots
pull water into veins—
inviting us—                        
we slip into
the shallows
through gravel and slick silt—
wait for the cold to ease

In the river
moving slow and clear
braided melodies rise—
our blood suffused
in reflected light
sun-washed—
we leave cocoons of aging skin
unfolding our wings


* * * * *

Lisa Fields lives in Southwestern New Mexico. Writing poetry expresses her desire to be immersed in a state of balance. Her inspiration comes from the joy of wild places and the challenge to live happily in the domesticated world. She is a contract writer for Quirine Ketterings, Professor of Nutrient Management in Agricultural Systems, Cornell University, Ithaca, NY. In her home state of NY, Lisa served the farming community as an Extension educator for 10 years, and then worked for 10 years as a self-employed advisor.

1 comment:

  1. Oooo, that last image: "we leave cocoons of aging skin
    unfolding our wings." The climax of a sensuous dip into flowing currents.

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