Wednesday, May 20, 2009

flowers bloom purple and feel like cats

Spruce Street, Berkeley

by Naomi Shihab Nye

If a street is named for a tree,
it is right that flowers
bloom purple and feel like cats,
that people are leaves drifting
downhill in morning fog.

Everyone came outside to see
the moon setting like a perfect
orange mouth tipped up to heaven.

Now the cars sleep against curbs.
If I write a letter,
how will I make it long enough?

There is a place to stand
where you can see so many lights
you forget you are one of them.


Anonymous said...

wonderful site--i particularly enjoyed this poem--thanks !

the redhead said...

Thanks! Glad you checked it out & enjoyed it. This is a particularly wonderful poem.