Sunday, November 4, 2012

A Flowering Twig, Long Island Poem for Sunday

A Flowering Twig
Ken Kenigsberg

There is in my parlor, a sere, skinny stick
rising above a plant that looks sick.
It stands there for months, lone and defiant,
I think it is dead, it's not even pliant.

Then, in a burst, a resurgent epiphany,
gorgeous gems appear, as if from Tiffany.
Nature brings life to a dried out stake;
orchids so perfect, they almost seem fake.

For thirteen years this Phoenix has stood,
Looking like a carved piece of wood.
At varying seasons, I do not know why,
a resurrection occurs to dazzle the eye.

If there is analogy in this to man,
it might be that, in the end, we can.

A Flowering Twig by Ken Kenigsberg from A Flowering Twig booklet published by The Feral Press.
Reprinted with publisher's permission.

Previous Long Island Poem for Sunday - Merlin Talking to Himself, Long Island Poem for Halloween Sunday

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