The Thrush at the Sill

 [Poetry], Sonnets, The Timid Leaper  Comments Off on The Thrush at the Sill
Aug 312011
 

Bright beyond belief the morning sun
Presents a double blazing image
Above the sink, bewitching just enough of dawn
For me to throw both windows back in homage.
I went forgetful about my round of chores,
Touching openness neither less nor more
Than I was bid by my round of chores.

Sunset had sun exit as it had come,
In doubled glory. A thrush burst out at once
Loudly loud, as if woods and house were one
And eaves leaves.-- And thank, yes, forever thank
Such song for how it came and its coming in
To wake indoor woods beside my sink.
Thank thrush for landing home in homing in.


I sing of him whose heart had hung

 [Poetry], The Departed Friend  Comments Off on I sing of him whose heart had hung
Aug 212011
 
I sing of him whose heart had hung
	 Above all struggle or wonder
	 Of our broken woes. Far oh far
Beyond our little lays he'd sung.

Yet here's no death, no reason, and
	 No loss. No loss? No loss but less
	 Of friendship than I'd lief confess,
A faded castle, fallen sand

Built up upon imperfect hope
	 Toward another sky. Lost, the dream;
	 Lost the meaning once deemed more firm,
The promise more than swami's rope.

We'd had heaven's ascent held fast:
	 What we'd reared in reckless dawn
	 As though God's own brave secret shown,
Looms a gibbet now dawn is past

And sunless exile welcomes me.