Wednesday, 17 December 2008

Wintermind by Arthur Durkee

Now winter. Fallen leaves still on the walk. We stand talking in the road, kicking leafpiles to see them fly, then wander down to the river. This cruel wind. No hat on, the drizzle soaks my head, hair in my eyes, drops going down the back of my collar. Spinning red maples fall over in brash display, scuff and shatter. The sky glooms and lowers. Somewhere I lost my way.

rain turns to wet snow
ducks thrash turgid black waters—
my eyes washed by tears

When the singer died, I was in the desert. Canyons filled with light, fresh snow, sublime tender evergreens. The silence deepened by memories, now that you've gone. Then, an echo of jays. Looking up, turkey vultures circled over dry arroyos, red earth broken by snow patches. Looking down, even the chollo seemed hunched over. Will we ever play again together? Perhaps in the western lands, beyond the sea.

guitar of dead leaves
scattering gusts of music—
mute song of passing

Arthur Durkee, USA


Gordon Mason said...

These images are so vivid! And the effect of two different forms of writing is excellent. I must visit AD's blog!

Tumblewords: said...

Wintermind, for sure - love the starkness of the words...

Cynthia said...

Excellent. Written with a reverence
that allows the words to open up
the reader's mind to a deeper
meaning. A kind of quietness takes
over ones mind.

sexy said...