Tag Archives: At My Drifting Edge

At My Drifting Edge – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: Jack Gilbert, pinterest.com.au

“Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul.” Emily Dickinson

At My Drifting Edge

How to desribe the bigness of life
with the impatient failings of words
that judge and hem us in
making meaning so small,
skirting round the yeasty feltness
of things that desire to rise and grow,
life is big, love is bigger, an encompass
of the wholeness of we,
but I found at my drifting edge
of view a simple grey feather,
a dovely gift of no decimal value
that in its dullness shone
with promises of hope,
that all the coin of the world
could never be given receipt.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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