Tag Archives: gift

Presentation

a pastel by Ethel Mortenson Davis

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Cricket

by Ethel Mortenson Davis

Tonight, black cricket,
if you sing your golden song,
you can have my room.

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Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, poems, Poetry

In Caf∞a∞ghan∞a∞stan

a children’s poem by Thomas Davis

Way down in Caf∞a∞ghan∞a∞stan,
Down by the restless, wave-tossed seas,
I met my true love walking home
Through sands, past forest trees.

The flowers, lemon-blossomed yellow
Spread out beneath the sun
And blossomed spring-time on the earth
And put cold winter on the run.

The pearl gray oysters fell to flocks
Of kiwi birds with prying beaks,
And long-eared owls laughed at the moon
And fished from moonless creeks.

Way down in Caf∞a∞ghan∞a∞stan,
Down by the restless, wave-tossed seas,
I met my true love walking home
Through sands, past forest trees.

My love wore golden earrings bright
And a gown of misty, sea-morn blue.
My love turned day into the night
And said to give this poem to you.

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Empty Hands

by Ethel Mortenson Davis

You come again
with empty hands.
When I meet you
your hands have nothing for me.
Not a small desert blossom.
Not a tiny bit of driftwood.
No rock.

You could have reached down
on your walk across the desert
and picked up a small gift.

I yearn for those hands
to be generous.
My father,
although a tyrant,
always had something for me
in his large brown hands.

But you,
I will rename you
“Empty Hands.”

Tomorrow the light
that floods the high desert
will present itself to me
as my gift.

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Tables

by Ethel Mortenson Davis

On my walk
this morning
I reached down to pick
a sacred-colored blossom,
but hummingbird flew out!

I’ll leave this table
for you.

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Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, Poetry