Poem — John Dickson

a note concerning names


the early spring evening
was warm and close
and while I walked the dog
there was grass and trees and a moon
and something else in me
the intimate safety of names
Later, I listened
while my grand-daughter talked
of moon pajamas
of bird holes in trees
and much else besides
I ask you
(whoever reads this note)
form with your lips
the shape of your name
and if you can’t figure that
some other time
I’ll tell you what I meant
the moon, the grass, the trees
my grand-daughter on the phone
my skin close and warm
and Thelma the Rottweiler
fast asleep
by a blazing fire


John Dickson

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Posted in Poem
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