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| ASTERS AND GOLDENROD
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This soft kitchen light,
at three o'clock in the morning,
opens a tapestry of soil in me.
Filled with slugs, centipedes, purple shimmering green-backed beetles, earthworms that love the wetness of their single muscle spring,
white spiders, mushrooms.
Covered in leaves.
I wonder what surprised look asters and goldenrod,
blazing the meadows and ditches, would have
caught in the car's beam at this time of morning.
During the day they are the king's celebration
of dancing purple and gold.
Jesters and bells. Swirling gowns.
They herald the baring of branches.
Trees burst into flame,
pheasant's fire and hawk feathers.
Leaves drop, released from service,
relieved. Their hold of the sun
drained back into the roots,
their last colours painted on,
they form thick wet mats.
Let life begin.
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from The Wind is a Tall Man Striding
watershedBooks
2000
Copyright © Jim Slominski |
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