Opus

I mimic the forest, where ferns gentle as flowers, leaves like feral pastels, shape the wind’s hymn, creating a counterpoint of chaos and calm.  

There, the birds have memorized melodies older than the shape of my skeleton.

Even young trees, the adolescent tones, sing with the ingrained voice of elders.

Carved streams speak in rough rhythms, of a grounding, the changing shape of earth, the flux of melody.

Awkward sky, an invited guest, punctuates canopy, like grace notes, completes the arc of composition.

 

I’ve copied the tune best I can.

Brought it back to fill my hummingbird feeder.

The audience’s wings, a rapid flutter, attends my skittish song.

Which is a sweet sugar water tinted by shade, that landscapes the new wild.

The pharmakon of ancient lyric.

 

Advertisements

45 thoughts on “Opus”

  1. Nice Read, particularly like this line: “here, the birds have memorized melodies older than the shape of my skeleton.”

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Good one. I particularly like the line, ‘I copied the tune best I can’. All poetry, we must concede, is only an approximation of the beauty we celebrate. But we can get close, so very close

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Oh thanks! It was a very wet day on the Eagle Creek Trail. There was snow a little higher up. This is where a kid threw some fireworks on a very dry day at the end of this last year. That section in the photo is now burnt and inaccessible.

    Like

Join The Discussion

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s