Zach
04-04-2005, 04:22 PM
Exile
A shriveled leaf pirouettes
at the end of a spider’s broken thread.
Again no rain today and the green tongues
of corn wither to silence
in the dusty light.
Water has withdrawn its grace
from the sand of riverbeds,
and trout crowd the pools, slim bodies
pale as the hands of praying monks.
The frontier of summer shimmers
on the horizon, and along
the roads bees skim the tiny flames
of clover, grains of ash clinging
to back legs, lost honey never
to sting our tongues to life.
In the early dark that flickers
with heat lightning, we wait
for the stirring wings of the storm,
watch bats
swoop for insects, startled flight
faithful to echoes from an unseen world.
A shriveled leaf pirouettes
at the end of a spider’s broken thread.
Again no rain today and the green tongues
of corn wither to silence
in the dusty light.
Water has withdrawn its grace
from the sand of riverbeds,
and trout crowd the pools, slim bodies
pale as the hands of praying monks.
The frontier of summer shimmers
on the horizon, and along
the roads bees skim the tiny flames
of clover, grains of ash clinging
to back legs, lost honey never
to sting our tongues to life.
In the early dark that flickers
with heat lightning, we wait
for the stirring wings of the storm,
watch bats
swoop for insects, startled flight
faithful to echoes from an unseen world.