Tag Archives: Blues

lagniappe

Because mornings emerge from misty bayous
and moss that hangs and touches the sky-
a reflection in glass.
Because the thickness in the air wraps
the sunlight and holds it close.
The moments are a drawl, and a legacy of
stillness waits-
it waits between each drawing breath,
lingers between each morning glory
and rain lily-
a sweet kiss from a drowsy boo
and its momentary entanglements.
Even before the first note sounds
the blues, there is beauty conjured in the
slim to none spell-
and it is some kind of wonderful,too.

Blues under the wheelbarrow

The white chicken
longs for

her li’l red rooster,
and cries

pooling tears
-same as the rain water-

on the barnyard floor
for a day.

***************
Inspired by William Carlos Williams poem XXII (The Red Wheelbarrow) and The Little Red Rooster, a blues standard, recorded by Howling Wolf.

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