The World Is Curving
Bats stooping for mayflies,
Stars shooting by the fistful through lolling moondark skies,
A firefly’s glad malarkey, reverse meteors in the dusk,
An unrandom scimitar of ants,
Heat ribbons blooming through tar paper,
The skirring bombillation of hummers on the bee balm,
Yellowjackets swarming the rinds,
A snailslick across a flagstone,
The idiot wave of a black walnut’s hand in just the right breeze,
Dawn-pooled light dappling the jackrock creekbed,
The rippling glisten of funnel spider whorls.
Summer dreams peopled by looping, whitewashed days.
Crammed with the calming blessed swell of earth
Curling toward its own ends.
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Wow, I love this. Summer is coming. I think it is coming a bit sooner where you live, where this poem lives. But it is exactly what I needed to read on this very chilly early spring morn.
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Situationally, most folk, us, look forward to the summer. Ahh, the reverse meteors I refer to in the poem are my favs, but my daughter lives in Phoenix and Summer Sux for her. No green, just mirages and dry. Thanks for dropping by. Glad to have you comment anytime. Have you ever used the online annotation program, Hypothes.is? Let me know if it appeals. Easy to share direct commentary that lives hidden in the margins.
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Great little snapshots of a summer’s day!