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Click hereSummer should not
be ripe for sadness not
when trees toss their hair
like casual schoolgirls
but stand otherwise still,
cool in blind assurance
like feckless flowers
or fruit waiting to fall
from the vine.
The world overflows
with secrets but crows
jeer no matter the season.
I hear them laughing
in the mornings knowing
they will be fat
as plums on the snow
when our ground is frozen,
our branches whip thin.
I toss my hair and flutter
my fingers but otherwise
am still at the window.
I can't pretend sovereignty
over trees or plums but here
stories in squirrels, pines,
dragonflies, nothing
like people but animate
them to feel something,
to glimpse an uncle
in the forsythia brush,
a grandfather shadow
in slanting afternoon.
I've been meaning to tell you
that the sky is closer
to the earth here. It's brighter,
the clouds have more
dimension. I've been meaning
to tell you but I don't
know who you are,
just that you are fleeting
as a butterfly wing
or dandelion fluff.
When the moon rises
I quicken the stars, beg
them to whisper my name,
gather tears in the palm
of my hand and pretend
they are mother's, sister's.
I fly into the night to comfort
the moon and tell it we are
some kind of family.
The imagery here is breathtaking. I found certain descriptions particularly striking, such as that of fat plums on the snow, and a grandfather shadow in slanting afternoon. Beautiful!
to describe your words dear sweet sister. This is as good as any of the masters' works. I hope it is published elsewhere as it is a gift to anyone who takes the time to read it.
further; "not" at end of line reminds me of fridayam's 'tipping' proclivity
a slight imbalance to resolution, excellent
This was beautiful. The language was musical, the images clear, and I loved the first stanza that "fell" into its conclusion so nicely while setting up what followed. I thought the alliteration of "f" in the same stanza was not overdone because of the wonderful contrast in sound with the hard "c, "t," and "st" sounds that accompanied it. It was pleasing to the ear.
The way you looped back in S2 and S3 with images of nature and yourself(tossing hair) while transitioning to people close to you in the last two stanzas intrigued me in a way I'm still wondering about.
As if S1 wasn't enough, you start S2 with
"The world overflows
with secrets but crows
jeer......"
Its double meaning from the enjambment was no mere poetic trick
in my opinion because how relevant it was to the rest of the narrative.
This is definitely one of my favorites, and I don't have many.