We stride in haste through cold October air
through city's dizzy mix of dark and light,
and leave the twinkled skyline for the pier
and solitude and waves beyond our sight.
Hansel and Gretel contemplate a woods
of waters; our own story has gone strange--
backdropped by dazzling towers, neighborhoods
of lives stacked row on row, and heedless range
of wheels that never sleep, however deep
the night. Above the lake, the airplanes hang
like low swung stars, like spacecraft. Skyships keep
each compass tuned by earth, huge kites on string.
Like freeways, awe and horror run parallel.
The whitecaps on the night-black lake can tell.
through city's dizzy mix of dark and light,
and leave the twinkled skyline for the pier
and solitude and waves beyond our sight.
Hansel and Gretel contemplate a woods
of waters; our own story has gone strange--
backdropped by dazzling towers, neighborhoods
of lives stacked row on row, and heedless range
of wheels that never sleep, however deep
the night. Above the lake, the airplanes hang
like low swung stars, like spacecraft. Skyships keep
each compass tuned by earth, huge kites on string.
Like freeways, awe and horror run parallel.
The whitecaps on the night-black lake can tell.
And you've begun November with a finely wrought and enticingly lively sonnet! Your sense of rhythm and of sound is here, as is customary in your poems, just about impeccable. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Tom!
DeleteLove the images. I look forward to taking some time to absorb this fascinating poem!
ReplyDeleteThank you, Beth!
Delete