Thursday, February 28, 2008

The true season yet to commence


A Time For Like Things

Spring makes its sound, the hammering of straw,
the chitter of avian hydraulics in heavy string gather
as the industries of nestbuilding steer well underway.

The sun lengthens now as shadows shorten and
everywhere green claims what was strewn bereft
and withered the winter long. It is a time for like things.

A small cricket climbs the screen door, an explorer, perhaps,
seeking new realms for his queen, lacking proper knowledge
of vernagraphy, promised some dear reward for ultimate risk.


This will go on even as the true season has yet to commence.
Bees with their technology; groundlings their endless engineering;
erupting grasses stoking their cauldrons with photosynthesis.

And poets will pause to look out of windows, sit or stand
beneath thin spectrums of visible light and hail the sky for
its bounty, its perfect caress of sun; offer the day its alphabet.

Joseph Gallo
February 28, 2008



Blogger billie parried...

Yay - welcome back! It's so good to see a new post here.

February 29, 2008 5:14 AM  
Blogger Joseph Gallo parried...

It's good to see you, Billie, and to be back---almost all the way---after that locusting flu.

February nearly evaded being part of the continuing archive of alphabets. We had to see to that with this little moment in five stanzas.

Thanks for dropping in and checking on me. :hugs:

February 29, 2008 10:57 AM  
Blogger Kyle parried...

I'll second that, Joseph. Good to see Drachenthrax back. And this is a fine poem, though I'm dismayed to see the end of my beloved winter season codified in poetry. :o)

March 01, 2008 11:27 PM  
Blogger Joseph Gallo parried...

Your comments are always appreciated, Kyle, and you can mostly count on a farewell winter poem----at some point closer to the handing off of that seasonal baton as we race around the sun in that celestial and grand elliptic.

March 02, 2008 12:00 AM  

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