Did you remake yourself
out of rust and algae again?
Yesterday was a gray beached hull
now it’s summer in the cornfields,
the tangy air has a towheaded fizz.
The mosquitoes have submarines
they crash-dive each new morn.
The flowers are all gulping,
and the rain is just enough.
Light flirts around mossy steel silos
and the brick and mortar works
of grandfatherly hands.
Sorry I missed you,
I hear your dawn was spectacular,
that the mist was a chromed coin
on the tongues of farm hands.
At that moment
I was watching a nickel dipped sunrise
paddle over a shimmering horizon.
I photographed it,
but missed all the otherness elsewhere,
and of course you had changed again
before I could get to you.
I see the evergreen live oaks in my backyard as old wise souls
Cosmic storehouses of wisdom, integrity and strength from the source
They stand tall soaring up high with their expansive curved brushwood
Spreading it in various directions to meet up with nearby oaks in the neighborhood
Beautiful shaded canopies they form bringing their shiny green foliage closer together
Make numerous cool, unruffled spots in the backyard to hang-out in burning summer weather
I respect their grandfatherly presence whenever I see them,
Admire their might and ability to provide generously to various animal domains
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.