Gazelles Upon the Hillside

I heard the falling hooves

Of gazelles upon the hillside

Yet the temple bell

Remained still and quiet

How the spirit starts to tremble

When it can reach no higher

Then silence becomes a cave

Into which such loneliness retires

Under the Light of the Eleventh Moon

Settling in the chill creekbed

Tonight under a soft blanket

Of December moonlight

There's a level of tranquility

Along the shoreline

I've never felt before

The waters have withdrawn

Far distant from the shore

And the tide gone so slack

It may never snap back again

From stillness of such depth

Things the Lawn Whispered to Me

Up until now I had only

Been dimly aware of the lawn's 

Interest in communicating with me

As sporadically displayed by

The mysterious calligraphy

The moles scratched out

As they dug their summer burrows

But now it appears the lawn

Has opened a second seasonal

Channel which consists of these

Barn hex or crop circle patterns 

That have recently begun

Popping up in the snow and

To be absolutely honest about it

I have no idea what they 

Could possibly mean

Winter Scene (II) -- in reply to A R Ammons

The other day

In the heart of Queens

I came across

The strangest scene

Mid-December

Midway down the block

A cherry tree stood

In full bloom

Around it buzzed

A dozen wasps

Resurrected from

Their winter slumber

A chill wind blew

The petals fluttered

Spring thus come in winter

Being both ill omen

And strange wonder

*************

This morning I read an A.R. Ammons called Winter Scene that had been posted to Twitter. "There is now not a single/leaf on the cherry tree" - as the poem begins. (You can read the full Ammons' poem here: https://allpoetry.com/poem/14370666-Winter-Scene-by-A.R.-Ammons.)

It immediately brought to mind this strange sight I came across last weekend when I went into the City to visit my kids. I have no idea how such a thing happens. One more sign of our planetary crisis or maybe just a tree recently transplanted from a greenhouse where it had been force-fed some Monsanto growth compound. As Paul Simon wrote, these are the days of miracle and wonder, except now there is a decided presentiment of time being broken and perhaps beyond repair.

Poem Written in Twilight on December 18, 2020 as I Stepped Outside the Front Door

I swear on the entire stack of poems

I shall ever write

Tonight while walking my dog

I beheld a most miraculous sight

Some might say the Star of Bethlehem

But no less spectacular I say

The near conjunction of Saturn and Jupiter

A once in 200 year celestial event

Just outside my front door

Soon to converge again

As Galileo first saw

****************

This poem was composed as a Tweet as I walked my dog this evening, swept away by the sense of serendipity to behold such a sight.

Poem Written While Standing at the Base of a Right Triangle Composed of Me, the Half Moon and the Setting Sun

We walked along the beach

Under a canopy of marbling clouds

The half moon 

Lay starboard side

I found myself nestled

In the base of a right triangle

Pinioned between the half moon

And the setting sun

Leaving no room for doubt

That daylight was nearly done 

Photo by M. Bridge

Ode to the Language Poet (for @ronsilliman )

 

The language poet 

Is insouciant

Tossing the literal

Aside in favor of the nut

Within the nut

Within the shell

And really what 

Did he find other than

The wheel turning to land

On Kora's season in Hell?

Oh but pity the poor language poet

The empty shell in which

He seeks to make himself

Feel more at home

More like a hermit crab

Than a lordly pair 

Of lobster claws

Scuttling along

The ocean floor