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.


No Effigy

 [Poetry], The Timid Leaper  Comments Off on No Effigy
Aug 312011
 

A tree must burn to be.
When summer's fellow ardor
Comes, they sway up, the trees,
The way that flame and flame
Combine in a making game
When what they are is brought too near,
And are pulled apart by wind
Playfully alone again.
A large sweet-smelling cedar
Held itself all summer
As constant-shaped as flame,
With a slow, slow burning sound
Of leaves, and the settling tick
Of branch that knocks on branch.
Where the woods blaze thickest
There comes a woodsey whoosh
That undoes my breath;
All the leaves alloyed sun-molten.
The fall will show them golden.
What have trees but trees
To prove that inside fire might be?
Trees have no effigy to burn.