An Old Woman's Painting

Scrape the sun from the wall of the sky. 
Cast the great nets of autumn over the houses. 
Even the throat of the lily is a dangerous inlet. 

Let the world stand wearily on the stoop of the jail 
of the world and the light of the mind, that small lamp, 
pearl of shine, let the night come to it, as iron filings to a magnet, 
mother.

Lynn Emanuel

...as iron filings to a magnet

Questions? Please take a moment to read the guidelines first.
Use the form to sign up (home page, menu icon, top right ⇗), or follow this link.
Check out my latest book, Mbera.
This blog uses Follow.it for email subscriptions and updates.
By subscribing, you may be sharing data with this service.
See our Privacy Policy for details.