Monday, August 17, 2009

Summer (Four Songs)

I. 
From where this music?
Bursts from a window
a violin,
reckless vibrato quakes
and would shake down the trees
if the wind hadn't already.
And a voice,
she sings oh so 
sweet. The force of the ocean
heaves against her heavy door.
Welcome the door, her 
door, blasted off its hinges
the lullaby trembles.
The trees aren't threatened,
it's the wind, frightened,
startled by its power.

II. 
The sweet laughter-music
of children who see
the world upside down,
who lean back on swings
to sweep up the ground
with their dizzy laughter-music
until they ride the arc, up, up
and jump—for a moment 
there is flight.

III.
A women
she opens the curtains
she climbs 
on the roof to wipe the windows
and sings
"You Are My Sunshine,"
remembers
to water the petunias 
everyday you are gone,
remembers
the mass, all the songs,
remembers
the sun, had to move over
because it was too bright.

IV.
A cello plays
"All the Things You Are."
Strange alchemy.
It's the wind, afraid.
Where have they to go?

John K., 8/17/2009, from fragments during 2008

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