Post 244: morning, grape vine, pine, poem, painting, love

by Carol Bass

scuppernong vine

don’t forget to say good morning

to the scuppernong vine
as you and the dog walk past

her tough wooded ropes
seem quiet and still
but off and on
through eternity
they sling themselves through
sun and hurricanes
looping and tangling

clinging round the steady pine
like a child, from the dustbowl
in the photograph
holding his mother in disbelief
that he’s been placed in hell right off

but the unearthly beauty
of the lines formed
is Nevelson drawing
a child dancing
the oriole’s flight
my arms outstretched
running to you