Sunday, 8 August 2010

The Race

A blow of wind;
Tree leaves race on the pavement,
The rustling sound



  1. Nice, Carla.

    Reminds me of this wonderful poem by the American poet William Carlos Williams (1883-1963) called "The Young Housewife":

    At ten A.M. the young housewife
    moves about in negligee behind
    the wooden walls of her husband's house.
    I pass solitary in my car.

    Then again she comes to the curb
    to call the ice-man, fish-man, and stands
    shy, uncorseted, tucking in
    stray ends of hair, and I compare her
    to a fallen leaf.

    The noiseless wheels of my car
    rush with a crackling sound over
    dried leaves as I bow and pass smiling.

  2. Thanks! Lovely poem :-) I like how it is prose-like and light!

  3. Loved it...
    A blow of wind; *wow*