poetscorner
photo by G Bryden

Decanting a Poem

The poet selects a bottle
from the cellar,

ponders the label,
wipes away the dust,

nods and smiles,
if it pleases,

sits down in that chair,
in that place,

slips the cork
from the bottle,

decants
the brew,

letting it breathe

some words evaporate
some dance and rearrange
some stay to play,

the poem morphs once more.

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Note: a repost