Today's poem is by David Swerdlow
The Last Hill and the Wild Trees
1.
It is easy to forget
the pine trees, and not unforgivable.Forsythia opens its hand
to the sun, obscureunder the drooped needles
of the pines' catacombwhere shafts of light pass
over a crowimpervious to beauty.
Still the light trembling limbs,still
the light trembling limbs.2.
Sky drenched
with honeysuckle, it is impossibleto be alone or still as the dusk quiets
the treetops and random voices,
someone's namecalled home. Syllables
ring and relax and fall wheresweet orange
with the present air almost
pauses on your arm but whirls
without desire everywhere.Across the street
in the trees
on the wire
mourning doves sing the evening's cleanlinen on the line,
white moon,the sad hum of us all
drowning
in a perfectly blue sky.3.
What danger is there in drifting
on Rockhold Creek,boats strung out in the harbor lights like clouds
covering a hundred moons?
We love the waterexpanding into its calm,
always collapsing
beautifully after its own torment.The last hill and the wild trees
decline
to the backlit water before evening settlesand every time we come over this hill
to the water I apologizefor the small self I have been.
Copyright © 2003 David Swerdlow All rights reserved
from Small Holes in the Universe
WordTech Editions
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
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