[Soaring Feather]

Sylvia Plath - Polly's Tree


A dream tree, Polly's tree:
a thicket of sticks,
each speckled twig


ending in a thin-paned
leaf unlike any
other on it


or in a ghost flower
flat as paper and
of a color


vaporish as frost-breath,
more finical than
any silk fan


the Chinese ladies use
to stir robin's egg
air. The silver-


haired seed of the milkweed
comes to roost there, frail
as the halo


rayed round a candle flame,
a will-o'-the-wisp
nimbus, or puff


of cloud-stuff, tipping her
queer candelabrum.
Palely lit by


snuff-ruffed dandelions,
white daisy wheels and
a tiger faced


pansy, it glows. O it's
no family tree,
Polly's tree, nor


a tree of heaven, though
it marry quartz-flake,
feather and rose.


It sprang from her pillow
whole as a cobweb
ribbed like a hand,


a dream tree. Polly's tree
wears a valentine
arc of tear-pearled


bleeding hearts on its sleeve
and, crowning it, one
blue larkspur star.

[NY Attitude]

Good morning Soaring Feather. That poem certainly was interesting. It is a little heavy for my coffee starved brain.

[MEG33]

Happy Thursday To The Lair

Interesting poem and graphic, Soaring Feather!

[Lady Jag]

Now I'm answering the wrong posts with the wrong replies. I hope you enjoy that other thread.

We have a Little Garden

WE have a little garden, A garden of our own, And every day we water there The seeds that we have sown. WE love our little garden, And tend it with such care, You will not find a faced leaf Or blighted blossom there. Beatrix Potter