I turn the lights out in the room -
a far, faint glimmer of new moon
filters down through Chinese elms
and merges with the cries of whales.
Gulls and elephants and seals
are in their songs, and violins -
the high-pitched shriek of bow on strings
evoking sound's extremest sense:
an underwater Orpheus,
his spirit challenging the depths,
haunting as the poem one cannot write,
the theme one can't forget,
freighted with a cargo of emotions
that transcend regret -
the troubadour's response to time
and mutability and death…
Evening with Whales
© Copyright: Jena Woodhouse, 2004
Свидетельство о публикации №104091900420
Свидетельство о публикации №104091900420
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