Welcome to Four Lines! I have a goal I would like to write at least four lines of poetry or a haiku every day for the rest of my life. I'm excited about this challenge! Also, along with my daily poem, I will be reading at least four lines of another author's poetry. I'll try to include that here also. So I'm thinking - how difficult can it be to read and then write one poem a day? We will see! - Claudia

All poems on this blog, unless noted, are written by Claudia Callaghan.
© 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014, 2015, 2016 Claudia Callaghan
Used only with permission. Please feel free to join Four Lines and request permission.

Saturday, July 14, 2012

The cat tails are now hale, taller
  than me, with delicate-looking,
long, slender leaves, slowly swaying,
    laborless in the sunlit breeze.

Most wear true green, green, vibrant
  tended golf-course green, yet some
are golden from lack of rain and heat.
  The candle sticks reach up in
mountain pose, with soft-rust,
  brown-orange flowers.

All are layered like leaves of any
  tree, any forest, flower bed, field
of corn.  Life, full of infinite layers.
  Onyx and I are outsiders again.
Last winter we stood within,
  beyond the cat tails, upon the
white ice of mallard pond.

Today she finds something grounded
  within this growing fortress,
her black tail wooshing back and forth.
  I silently watch.  She listens
and smells, smells with a wolf nose.
   "What is in there Onyx?"
  I ask her. She looks up at me
and back at the cat tail forest floor.

  I'd like to stay, float like a she elf
or Indian through the forest.
  But I am neither.
For all my trying, it would be
  like breaking words, a world
of words.

So we walk home, shined upon.
  I feel my skin green, with a sudden
blending of allowing and joy.

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