Walk the rails under a high blue sky. Find the sag in the leaning fence, and step--carefully--over rusted wire. Follow a peninsula of blond grasses through a lake of loam, and come, at last, to the timber's edge where gray branches trace the sky and rose hips curl near purple canes.
Wednesday, July 15, 2015
Rough Sapphic
City heat and smog-armored sky engender
blank ennui. But see the unshaven grace of
scraggly margins, chicory bristle, heaven's
commonest kisses.
I'm not familiar with sapphics, I have to admit, but I do love the imagery here. One expects the contrast to be an ideal kind of beauty, but instead it's the quotidian -- and thus a lovely reminder to look for grace everywhere.
I haven't tried Sapphics in four years! You've inspired me, Elena; check out the Tambourine.
Of course, I echo Beth's praise of your imagery in this "rough" stanza; there's sort of a Hopkinsian note of "long live the weeds and the wilderness yet"!
I'm not familiar with sapphics, I have to admit, but I do love the imagery here. One expects the contrast to be an ideal kind of beauty, but instead it's the quotidian -- and thus a lovely reminder to look for grace everywhere.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Beth--it's lovely to "see" you here! I'm grateful for the wild flowers that bloom around guardrails and fences here.
DeleteI haven't tried Sapphics in four years! You've inspired me, Elena; check out the Tambourine.
ReplyDeleteOf course, I echo Beth's praise of your imagery in this "rough" stanza; there's sort of a Hopkinsian note of "long live the weeds and the wilderness yet"!
This comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteOops! Needed an edit! Let me try again:
DeleteThanks, Thomas! Yes, "long live the weeds"! Heading over to http://thecrystaltambourine.blogspot.com/2015/07/old-friends.html, now!