lunette light between new green leaves noonday sun aperture light filters below greening woods refracting shadow and sunlight preening woods frog song heard from shadowy pools afternoon tune water's scent creekside breeze rises cooling dusk
lying on the old sofa in the screened porch
my view is of the tree tops
bold black strokes of a calligraphers pen
drawing thick trunks and long limbs
across a carolina blue sky
filled in with sponged leaf and green buds
interrupted by fat chenille bumbles bouncing
against the screen
and the fussing of wren parents going on about whose turn it is
to feed the hungry littles
soft spring breezes from an april I’ve never lived
in my previous lives rocks me gently in this spacious afternoon
but now its five o’clock and the rumble of a late day train
shakes me from this reverie as the small dog tunes
to the trains whistling call
and I rise to rummage through the pantry
for the makings of the evening dinner
the wind chanted
to the widow-maker
down down down
from high in the old oak
I heard the song they sang together
wind and limb and tree
and earth
finally earth, earthbound and severed
its life of danger
now splintered broken on the ground
its coda, bright flame
cold ash
its no wonder physics is rattled
time has taken a holiday
and with it gravity
energy and motion have increased
and decreased
at the same moment
but see how the sun strides across the advent room
in early morning splendor
shining gold against walls
of pear and faded aquamarine
Breaking News: Evidence is mounting that a tiny subatomic particle is being influenced by forms of matter and energy that are not yet known to science but which may nevertheless affect the nature and evolution of the universe. New York Times
listening to the drone of the weeder
as it makes its way across the field
its movement, a threshing
tender green stems bow to its knowledge
this one shall live
and this one
shall die
back and forth, a threshing
a separation of what was before
now after
how time is split in two
wings sweep across the sapphire sky
slipping into currents unseen
yet felt
raising temperature and faces
sunward into vernal hopes
of Aprils softness and fury of green-
ing buds rising swiftly
into a sapphire sky
swept with wings
and wild song
i thank You God for most this amazing day By e e cummings i thank You God for most this amazing day: for the leaping greenly spirits of trees and a blue true dream of sky;and for everything which is natural which is infinite which is yes (i who have died am alive again today, and this is the sun’s birthday;this is the birth day of life and love and wings:and of the gay great happening illimitably earth) how should tasting touching hearing seeing breathing any-lifted from the no of all nothing-human merely being doubt unimaginably You? (now the ears of my ears awake and now the eyes of my eyes are opened)
Dusk lingers on this early Spring evening
before Easter vigil begins,
the time in-between life and death
and life again.
I cover the tender lettuces again
to save them from certain death.
Life is that way, isnt it?
A cycle of little deaths, after life, after death
and then the sun shines again
and we all raise our arms to the sky
giving thanks for today
before the in-between time
begins again.
on this Good Friday
a lone singer
of early morning moonsongs
sang me awake
their warbling tune
soon joined
by a chorus
hidden in lush bamboo
then joined too by the sound of the kettle
and a small dog tip toeing across the kitchen floor
so much in a morning
so much in a song
