Thistle Down

Over the ditch-bank,
Came floating of down.
Like encrusted, bright diamonds,
Unloosed from a crown.

On slow, gentle breezes,
They sail through the air.
Resembling the tresses,
Of white angel hair.

Fairies go chasing,
Each light, shiny mass.
And tangle the flounces,
Round hoops made of glass.

Down through the garden,
They encircle until.
The frogs hush their singing,
In the pond by the mill.

Far out in the distance,
Whirling round and around.
Into utter oblivion,
They fall to the ground.


E.P. 1908 - 1989

When you open the cover on Thistle Down - Poems By Ethel Pickett this is the first poem on the page across from a personally written note of love on the inside cover. It is before the preface and index and a drawing of Taylor Mountain. In my book it says, "To Leslie & Kim Miller - You are such nice people to call my grandchildren - From your grandmother - Ethel Pickett - 1980."

I feel this is an important poem that I hope to be able to appreciate and take in sufficiently. My first impression of it is one of joyful, open imagination, great love, and a deep vision of beauty that has been born through a unique intelligence.