Tuesday, July 23, 2013

Fickle Sun by BrokenPenWriter





Walked a grey beach this January morn
dressed in winter and thick jacket
until the sun appeared, along with
that miraculous blue
I think it used to be called Sky
I returned to the cabin to write
but weeds spoke louder and heat rose
from damp beds of trespassers
Stripping off winter
I dove into shorts and sleeveless
wheeled my rusty barrow on nearly-flat tire
into the midst of sloping green lush
and began digging roots, pulling weeds
Two glorious nose-freckled hours later
nails chipped, cuticles stained with soil
back throbbing a digging pulse
that drum
signifying weeks of inactivity
painful but beautiful,
fulfilling song
Garter snake, robin, worms and ants
swallows and swifts, spiders and deer
hummingbirds, rabbits, beetles,
and oh-so-many slugs and I
perform
a summer symphony
groans, sighs, shrieks, shrills
shimmer, buzz and breath
praying the sun will bask in our music
be entertained
and stay



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