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.
fourwindowspress 
Another gem twinkling in the sunlight. I am always excited when I see a new post of yours in my inbox, Ethel.
Really, really like this.:)
-Jennifer
How sad that is , poets denied the one thing they love above all. Human interaction feeds poetry. 😦 XX ………. beautiful poem though.
Oh this is intriguing, Ethel–love it!! Wishing you and Thomas a great Monday–God bless you abundantly.
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.
This is wonderful. Thank you, Ethel and Thomas.
So lovely it makes my heart soar!
I am left pondering my banishment from the village.
All I ever did was to try to tell the truth
David
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!
I love this – such simple beauty and depth in your words. There is always so much between the lines!
I really enjoyed these expressions. Thank you. Love Ethel
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.
Li Po makes me think of wine and an empty boat. I think he would like the smell of junipers and pinyons.