Well, I haven't been writing much lately. You know my excuses, but I will state the over-arching issue: I have a job. That job involves providing feedback and commentary on over 100 college students' writing assignments. That is no small task. I hope you understand.
I have not mentioned it in a while, but, if you like the kind of poetry that I write, a poet named Patrick Gillespe has a blog entitled PoemShape that is very interesting. He and I have roughly similar poetic sensibilities, and I thoroughly enjoy his writing. He is a New England writer, and those familiar with New England poets such as Emerson, Dickens, and Frost will note the New England tint to his language and style. I am a southern boy, and I cannot help it, but living in the south, especially in north Arkansas, shapes a life and use of language very deeply and differently than most other places.
Anyway, I wrote this morning's poem on a whim, slightly inspired by the picture above, which is only one of a whole bunch, but mostly because I felt like writing this poem this morning. In this poem, I stick strongly to my "promise" that my nature poems will be very songlike, and they will stay short. I will ask all of my readers again to share your thoughts with me through the blog or through Facebook, but the most important thing that I ask, as always, is ENJOY!
The Shadows Play
Beneath dark limbs and yellow leaves,
Quick shadows dash today
Like playfully frisky pixies
In hues off-black and gray.
They dart about in speckled shade,
Eluding glints of light,
Pursuing silhouettes of nil,
Pure fantasy in flight.
The sun creeps low, the specters grow,
But calm their frenzied chase.
They rock with dusk drafts to and fro
Fixed firmly in a place.
Up comes the moon, a weirder glow,
A cool suspicious light.
Who knows then of the shadows’ games?
What pastimes fill their night?
I think I know it’s all the same,
Day to night, night to day,
These notions are all tricks of light
And it’s my mind that makes them play.
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