Portrait of a woman finding relief from for her days by working in her garden at night |
Light spatters down like hard Summer rain color and white hot and deep shadow stain swirled and splashed through shimmering glass like brass cymbals struck with hammers. I am shaken with heat of these fiery days and long to take hold of the clamorous rays that bring tears to my eyes as they fly off of chrome or gather and spill from flowers. Reflect now on light with moon as its source; quieting loud and softening coarse. Like Mother's song and long, cool touch this light allows breath and thought. The sun falls below with faraway horn one moment I die while evening is born An echo of pounding out rhythm around pulse halo across the sky. When the first stars arise in deepening blue the light having travelled for years is made new and touching my heart subdues the days thunder that motion can wholly be claimed. I seek none to listen and heed no decree as I gather my tools and night gathers me While tasting this Earth and our dark tidal birth I can finally toil serene. Like swells on the Sea there are rhythms below that my breath recites as I turn through the row and the light off of Mars and from faraway stars softly returns from the leaves. The night breeze may carry the scent of a storm which cloud-shadow moonlight could hasten to form For water and soil and water and root fulfill the dream of this time. Sow life to the Earth and blanket with peat Moist air settles sweetly in breath and in leaf while the sound of the trowel against soil and stone is food to my life and to seed. I wonder the watcher that watches the skies I wonder the foxfire and night winging sighs Will the owl catch her prey or the mouse hide away beneath stones by the deep water well? The eyes of the watcher now rest upon me. I finish this row and rise up off my knee. There approaches a ringing, metallic and singing and Eastward there promises flood! When I hold my child and my belly is warm I can't quite contain what pours into this form Let me walk on the wire, take part in the fire that grows the garden below. |