Where light weighs the most, Cardiac rehab & Claims of a pine lecturer
[ poetry - november 12 ]
Where light weighs the most
In the dazzle of noon,
on a field of unbroken snow
next to a river
gouged out by a glacier
twenty million years ago.
Because of such
magnificent numbers -
one sun ray ninety three million miles long -
lightís quite hefty indeed,
and waits for midafternoonís tint of warmth
to shed a few ounces of shimmer and sparkle;
how motionlessly light can move
when exercising in tandem
with swimming floes in the river.
At dusk, as snow blackens
light thins to a lone filament
far more ancient than glaciers,
in love with the first and last stars,
yet hiding tonight, as well,
in the knifesharp icy dangle
that jewels so many branches
and honors so many trees
with the coldest yet finest of loves.
You're winded, have to pause
(you've walked ten yards)
and that gives you the opportunity
to mingle with a breeze you might ignore
if you were in a rush.
of blue air across wild leafery allures
and you abandon guidelines, bask in balm
of Maybright shimmer, leaves that reassure:
there is no therapy like that of calm.
A rushing stream just down
the road is tumult
but with a kind of rough tranquility
when mirroring noon light.
&nbs; Soon rippling lulls
just like the breeze, liquid geometry
explaining how the world is made of sound.
You stand as if amazed. More still than stillest ground.
Claims of a pine lecturer
I am adroit at perpendicular,
yet splay a branch or three to demonstrate
variety in angle. This blue air
knows no savant but me: birds calculate
the flit of this and soar of that but canít
stay steady in trajectories like me.
I am the prince of loft-stability
and even school the wind in measurement:
dividing puff from gust and how to swirl,
then dwindle to a placid summer day.
I do not try to emulate the curls
of foliage ebullient in mid-May.
Admire me, Iím practically the sky,
a slender-headed teacher, coned and high.