Crickets cranking shifting gears, and I lie down on creeping lily turf beneath weeping branches, sad and happy, listening to the thumping rhythm of my own heartbeat, as if counting my last few minutes, a rhythm I see repeated in the pinkish red sky covering me like glasswork. I wish you were here. Patchwork clouds cast down occasional shadows, now bumping along the shallow gulf here, keeping rhythm to the drum in my chest full of wind chimes. Wish you were here. Closing my eyes, I listen to the tiny fingers of wind plucking and washing the wheat in the field behind the house where clusters of white flowers spread wild, lingering all around wheat like cattle ready to graze. And rattling my chimes too, it moves off, pushing those clouds, the way your backup chorus gets behind your beating heart when you are the solo. Used with the permission of Copper Canyon Press, P.O. Box 271, Port Townsend, WA 98368-0271, www.cc.press.org | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE HERETIC: 1. BLASPHEMY by LOUIS UNTERMEYER THE BIGLOW PAPERS. 2D SERIES: 2. JONATHAN TO JOHN by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL TO A CAT by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE AT FLORENCE by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH ECHO by AULUS LICINIUS ARCHIAS THE HISTORY OF ARCADIUS AND SEPHA: BOOK 2 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH |