Southern Illinois Spring

The pond I fish
holds an offering of sky within
the water. I cast into clouds —
draw them close on the
ripple of a wave.

Geese warble
silently past my boat as
they fly at the waterline.
In the depths fish lurk, hidden
by a thunderhead — their darkness
masked by the gray, moving
forms rolling, building above.

Water spiders dance upon the
mirror surface flecked with dust
of protozoa. A breeze kicks up.
I pull on the oars, slicing
through steely sky. I draw
to shore as the rain begins.

Millions of ripples intersect
each other, unbroken as they
expand, dividing the sky among
themselves until the choppy water
arises in petulant waves. Fish
surrender to the moment
of anarchy, thrashing, striking
wildly at the line I cast again
and again. The sky takes
back itself and returns
water.

——

I’m not sure how many years ago I wrote this, but it’s in one of my chapbooks.

Linguipotence

Have you heard?
Hold a raindrop.
Peel apart the petals
clasped within.

Count the flowers
tumbling down
through this long interlude
of rain.

Infinite vibrant colors
lie hidden in the clear,
in the white haze between here
and the far tree line

bereft of leaves,
clothed only in droplets
trailing down
to the brown winter ground.

Hold breath
until the spring. Watch the sky,
alternating ashen gray and blue-faced,
fade away to night.

Night after night
until the gift arrives
of warm light dappled color
glowing through the green,

rising through our shoes
and raining blossoms down.
None of it seems possible now
but that’s the word.

=====

I should be saving all these for some theoretical publication, but I never do.

For dVerse Open Link Night 129

Is It Spring Yet?

Spring

Rainbow pours from gray heavens
into the heart of an earth washed clean.
Point of entry is unprovable
and the literal-minded mutter
of refraction, of light divided
into component frequencies.

I see a mist of dancing angels fill the air:
God’s messengers cup amethysts, rubies,
turquoise and amber in their hands.
On light wings they arc downward,
burying gems in the land they touch.

Through vast tracts of time
every point on earth has been sown.
Do not bother to dig.
Forcing its way,
even through concrete,
color rises new born.