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A Poem by Leslie Philibert

as it is

the tension
in stressed blackwood
skinned wing

of a sparrow
the clean knife
of a december wind

all this
all this the end
steps on gravel
the night`s last

© 2020 Leslie Philibert

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This spare offering makes a somber point about mortality: It happens. In the midst of life, we are indeed in death, not only a small bird, but every living thing. If we could understand that, and also understand it's just another part of nature, maybe we wouldn't fear it so much.

Posted 6 Months Ago

Oh. Oh. I have missed words like this. Even when December is coldest

Posted 6 Months Ago

"the clean knife/ of a december wind"
love that image.....
the night's last stones...the night's last hurrah...and the last night of the subject of the poem.
The spirit flying away with the sparrow.

Posted 6 Months Ago

How wonderful to see you posting again Leslie. It seems such a long time. I am taking a break from WC for a while but was thrilled to check in and see your latest poem.

As always you capture an emotion, a moment, an elegant frieze carved in words. Few words full of meaning. In this I saw a blackwood handled knife, a thing of beauty but sharp and possibly deadly to such as fragile bird. Perhaps a dead bird found upon the winter path or a metaphor for the stripping away of yet another year as the sharp pang of sadness cuts.

Posted 6 Months Ago

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4 Reviews
Added on December 16, 2020
Last Updated on December 16, 2020


Leslie Philibert
Leslie Philibert

Bavaria, Germany

I`m not important. I just want to write a couple of good poems. Just read what I write. That`s enough. more..


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