22 August 2012

Cicada Song


a restless day
leading to a walk
by a river already turning
it's placid summer face
to the north wind,
a sudden thunderstorm
traps a waif
in a fury of cleansing
she turns her face upward
dances
beneath a late summer canopy
of butter-yellow
waning to henna
spinning alongside wraiths
rising from sleep
arms outstretched
mouths agape
both they and she
baying to be filled
with something over-ripe
drowning
in the sonorous volume
of cicadas whose chorus
strengthens with each
lightning strike
harmonizes with the timbre
of dark wet thunder
reminding her of a voice
that splits her into fragments
scatters her as raw diamonds
across the quicksilver
of this changeling river


{ On a walk to my river in the late afternoon, I was trapped there by a thunderstorm. The Allegheny has been a source of inspiration to me innumerable times, yesterday it revealed itself to me in a way I had not experienced previously...and for that I am grateful. And yes, I did dance in the rain, under a fading summer canopy. }

7 comments:

  1. Oooh, wonderful! I love the imagery of "butter-yellow waning to henna" and "sonorous volume
    of cicadas whose chorus strengthens with each lightning strike." This had me from start to finish, but that ending is fantastic.

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  2. Thank you so much Stephen x

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  3. It's enchanting how you describe the atmosphere, how you immerse into nature. *bows in awe*

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  4. Oh Martin, that is very sweet :-)Thank you.

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  5. drowning
    in the sonorous volume
    of cicadas whose chorus
    strengthens with each
    lightning strike..........absolutely lovely verse.

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  6. This is a sparkling poem. The incidence may be a chance walk but words are crafted carefully & polished like diamonds. A superb read indeed!!!

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  7. My fiend--lovely! A sweet poem. I felt like I was there.

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