Sunday, January 26, 2014

Done gone and recited another poem

In the company of musicians and writers, I had another chance to say a few words again...

Deep and Clear

A year of water
is hidden from even the thirstiest of dry-nosed dogs,
expanding new flowers and old ideas with
long sheltered January dreams.
It often happens in this season that we are caught moving against the wind
in the sky,
ignorant of waves and clouds like field furrows,
bearing outcome, hidden like the vivid thoughts of new babes.
But a thirsty lot are we, overturning in blind flight
all that is rooted
and only small, fleeting things remain to grow.

It is a culture displaced and reconstituted
to see our old, familiar dogs as they are;
a reflection of all dreams,
with greyed muzzle, drooping tail
and closing those moist, bright eyes with a last rearward glance before the fire
as it wanes with night’s regress.
All sleep, and those dreams rekindled dash on
like puppies and children in warm thickets by streams and washes
each awash in pleasure well-earned
despite never having learned how to dream
or find play or water
on the culture’s endless roads of stone.

Along and in the end,
Having created, announced and anointed that singular fear
in the handful of dust,
and having seen the sapling of that soil sprout and
remember the streamside dreams
and much-loved ancient dogs-
all small, fleeting fears will wilt
and the dust blow toward dunes away in the east,
against the wind
and despite those waves
generations of dreamers will rise
and drink clear, deep water.

1 comment:

Ataritron said...

Nice work. I especially like the end.