sing a song to shadow
(sing to it of light)
for Spring may come tomorrow
(and with it, all things right).
sing of sun-soaked meadow,
hum of bee's first flight:
trilling comes the sparrow
and crickets sound the night.
sing for barefoot wand'rings
'midst slant of golden sun
where dandelion tumblings
dance of things to come.
sing in scales of new rain:
light mist and lion's storm--
forget the cold of Winter's pain
and hail Spring's bright reform.
sing a song to shadow
(sing to it of light)
for Spring may come tomorrow
(and with it, all things right).
* * * * *
Remembered & Revised. Waiting on that Formulaic Happenstance, Aaron---and not just the hemorrhage of words and second sorrows. All of it. That's the rule.
3.3.07
spring song
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2 comments:
I didn't know we were trying to remember the whole thing. As a result, your poem is a great deal closer to its original than mine. Of course mine would have changed from revision anyway...
Your poetry is the kind where I can see myself sitting in the poetry aisle of the library, books piled high next to me, but your book sitting on my lap. I can see myself copying lines down in my notebook, wanting to remember them for always. And then I'd just check out the book because I wanted to read it late into the night in the warmth of my bed. I'm just honored to know the Elizabeth Rhondeau before she became the famous writer.
I love this poem. You get it. You know how to do it. You have a voice. You have a style. You have talent, a natural talent that is incredibly delightful.
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