by Ethel Mortenson Davis

For Li Po

In the spring
I think about
water and flying,
clear water running
over moss-covered stones.

Poets are forever,
banished from
the village,
cut loose
in order
to wander
the desert,
to fly just barely above
the juniper and salt brush.


Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, Poetry

13 responses to “Flying

  1. Another gem twinkling in the sunlight. I am always excited when I see a new post of yours in my inbox, Ethel.

  2. jeglatter

    Really, really like this.:)

  3. How sad that is , poets denied the one thing they love above all. Human interaction feeds poetry. 😦 XX ………. beautiful poem though.

  4. Caddo Veil

    Oh this is intriguing, Ethel–love it!! Wishing you and Thomas a great Monday–God bless you abundantly.

  5. gene3067

    Banishment is good. All winter the poets have had time to interact with humanity, now they can go out and interact with nature. They’re more rounded for it.

  6. This is wonderful. Thank you, Ethel and Thomas.

  7. So lovely it makes my heart soar!

  8. I am left pondering my banishment from the village.

    All I ever did was to try to tell the truth


  9. We poets are such free-flying outcasts, are we not? If we had not been banished, we would not free to fly high and sing the words of the souls of all mankind!

  10. I love this – such simple beauty and depth in your words. There is always so much between the lines!

  11. So lovely, so moving. The last lines are wonderful…’to fly just barely above
    the juniper and salt brush.’

    For some reason, they left a lasting impression on me.

  12. Li Po makes me think of wine and an empty boat. I think he would like the smell of junipers and pinyons.

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