William Michaelian

Poems, Notes, and Drawings

Weightless Wait

If we judge the depth of a poem only by the number of words or lines it contains, we will surely do the same when we read a woman, child, or man; such a waste it is, when we hurry to the end.

Weightless Wait

A lacy maple, now orange, red, and yellow, is dropping leaves.

Tiny birds arrive. Weightless. Wait. More leaves fall.

Brushstrokes. Worn out shoes. A pilgrim’s smile.

And the distance to the earth below is a mile in this poem.

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Categories: New Poems & Pieces

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