Landscape, with Repeating Sounds

This entry is part 90 of 92 in the series Morning Porch Poems: Spring 2011

Listen closely. Small halos dropping out of the leaves, little tambourine

sounds. A catbird mimics the wood thrush. Follow it into the thicket,

follow it into the vines. Or sing to it, to make it come.

Ghost of a call, ghost of an answer. A music teacher

told me once, Phrasing is all. But also I love

what falters and stops, starts again. Trying, always trying.

Water so green, it’s audible. It wants so much, because it can.

At night, lamps are lit at the kitchen window and the dark

spools behind like a trail for moths. Here they come,

drunk with the light and beating their lovely wings.

 

In response to an entry from the Morning Porch.

Series Navigation← Dream TimeEpistle of the Leaves →Evidence →

6 Comments


  1. Dave and Luisa, I found a response in me this morning…

    Antiphon

    Night falters, songs emerge.
    Venus fades into the dawn sky.
    Behind the curtain of daylight
    she phrases calls that mimic
    no other. From the thicket
    where the heart resides,
    little tambourine sounds.

    Reply

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