Brave branches gracefully
attending the daily flux
mingling with the grasses
that dance atop the salty cliffs
Hear your fronds sing
when you come up for air:
gentle daughter,
feed me in my time of need
guide this traveler
into the beautiful shoes
that enliven my path
The research for this last poem in my series based on Anna Atkins’ cyanotypes took me down an interesting rabbit hole, including learning about the Dúlamán. Thank you for joining me on this journey; thank you for reading! (PS World Cyanotype Day is the last Saturday of September, every year. . . . got a question about it? Ask me! )
The Poetry Patio 