Tuesday, November 01, 2005


looking out over the spaces between rumpled blue ridges
the high, thin air like a soft cloth freshly shaken out across a table
spaces that grow deeper and more resonant in this uncomplicated light
while shadows nestle and soften themselves in their lengthening curves

a silhouetted hawk rises silent on circling currents
watching for the small movement of a tasty morsel darting
between the shade of sparse grasses and tumbled stones
as sunlight catches the hunched white shoulders of granite

the sound of a creek threads through mossy rocks
tumbling down cold and light, a susurrant green song
answered by unseen birds in the lichen-strewn pines
and crickets tucked in niches of a warm thicket

gold and soft red delicate blushes hang where
the horizon dips and swings under the weight of the sun's sinking
subtle tints that cling to the tip of a brushstroke of cloud
their colors shifting with the unhurried descent

— and the sun is gone, the last wash of color seen
lingering on the upper lip of granite
the final breath of rosy-gold
before the night sings

Written for the word of the day, alpenglow, at Poem of the Day.


Blogger Stranger Ken said...

This is a lovely piece, a beautiful evocation of the scene and the moment. I'm pleased I got here first.

11/01/2005 2:59 PM  
Blogger Patry Francis said...

It's a challenge to write a poem that lives up to that sublime word, but you did it.

11/01/2005 6:15 PM  
Blogger Amy said...

This line is lovely: "the high, thin air like a soft cloth freshly shaken out across a table." Wonderful simile.

Also, I love the sounds in "crickets tucked in niches of a warm thicket." All those short "i's" and consonants sound like niches in a thicket.

11/02/2005 9:35 AM  
Blogger Mary said...

I can almost picture the scene. Beautifully evoked. I simply don't know how you do this on an almost daily basis!

11/02/2005 10:01 AM  
Blogger mermaid said...

It's difficult to paint the scene with the color of words, and you did it. I can see it now.

11/02/2005 10:18 AM  
Blogger garnet david said...

where ever you point your poetic gaze, you paint the scene with subtle detail. soothing rhythms lull.

11/03/2005 8:09 PM  
Blogger MB said...

This poem was an intensely visual experience to write, trying to find the words and phrases that would show what I saw -- the verb 'paint' fits well here. Amy, thank you for noticing the cricket line, I was particular delighted to find that aural embodiment of the meaning.

Thank you all for your kind words. Writing poems is a lonely business, and connecting with others over them is meaningful to me.

11/04/2005 9:40 AM  

Post a Comment

Links to this post:

Create a Link

<< Home