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Who will ever notice a grain of sand

Riding the back of a falling leaf?

Who will ever study the peculiar geography

Of a narrow path between two pines?

Who will ever draw its map?

There is no scientific interest.

A man of common sense will never care.

But the world is made of yellow flowers

Never thought about…




Alan Zhukovski writes poetry and prose in English, Ukrainian and Russian.
 


This poem came to me unexpectedly. After a busy day I felt inspired, it was like a murmuring sea in my chest. I've never had an inspiration for specific genres or themes. When I had this feeling of waves in my body, I could use it for any poetic purpose. And then I decided to write about these yellow flowers. I am a great fan of maps. Wherever I go, wherever I come, I have the desire to study the microgeography, visualizing the place I came to, wanting to draw its map, to feel every winding of the road, the position of every lake, every house and every tree. The whole world (and the worlds of poets) are about these yellow flowers.





 





  


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