I'm preparing my poetry portfolio, which is due at noon today.

Thought it would be fun to share this poem:
(as with most of my poems- I think I prefer the originals, but I HAVE to revise them, so here is the revision)


Two Figures at Sun’s Crease

Sunny days, old trees grown tall.
Honey waves, sweet air, birds call.
Shoes laced, everybody’s ready to haul.
Trail leads down, down, down, fall.

Another world: birds, bees, owls storming at our heads.
Wolves track our scent, a creature hunts our tread.
Our pace quickens, roots reach for our feet.
One’s taken hold of Aime, she’s down on her knees.

She’s up, back in a run, we can’t stop here for long.
Even as we pant, feet rushing, we can hear their song.
They are behind us, beneath us, but we’re unafraid and strong.
We call it “ba-rock-ing” every ground we step on.

It’s an ancient war word for seizing the territory,
The Hebrew God told the 12 tribes that every
Inch that they tread on He would give them in victory.
So we barock through the darkness, till our toes touch the sea.

And suddenly there’s peace.

The land is ours, everything as it should be
As we look across the beach.
Our hearts are still, our fears all decease.
Two figures rest at sun’s crease.