![]() Windy Night, Spirals of leaves and Street LampsA Poem by Samuel Ferris
The lot lit up in orange light
was overgrown with the little things people left behind: papers, cigarettes, coffee cups, piles of dead leaves and perennial pedals, were left sputtering, battling it out with the wind and the concrete. I gathered the image of intricate play as i pushed the column of carts through the empty lot, as i locked the broken picket fencing that went unsold, as i pushed towards the end of my shift. It is always this time of night that i become susceptible to the idea, that my destiny lies with the trash, that i too am intertwined and spiraling up on the wind. The thought unfolds itself behind my eyes and in the corners- the nooks and cracks in consciousness-as the wind kicks up a cup, and a few leaves. For a moment, i am swept up in it; for a moment, i have been set free with the idea that i too am entirely disposable.
© 2010 Samuel Ferris |
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1 Review Added on May 12, 2010 Last Updated on May 12, 2010 Author![]() Samuel FerrisRochester, NYAboutI enjoy reading and writing, playing guitar, piano, and composing music. I enjoy reading the poetry of Seamus Heaney, TS elliot, William Carlos Williams, EE Cummings, Lorca, pablo neruda, emily dicke.. more..Writing
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