Between Birdsong and Boulder

Photography by David Noah,
Winterville, Georgia.

Athens, Georgia

June 14, 2011; revised September 17, 2014

Somewhere above an unseen bird

puffs up and girds his half ounce frame
to sing a territorial claim
with ancient notes that pierce the dawn. 
Some precious seconds pass in song,
a moment more and echo’s gone
subsiding in the summer breeze. 

The insubstantial fades away; 
before a thought, it all recedes
to pressure waves where chaos breeds.

Somewhere in time a youthful earth
contracts her planetary girth 
and clears her molten throat to sing 
boulders. Three hundred million years 
and more, extruded magma from her core
some two miles down became this rock
which anchors moss to woodland floor.

Though passive mass persists today, 
through centuries it, too, recedes
to blowing dust where chaos breeds. 

Somewhere in shifting entropy 
new riffs arise in life’s old song 
with notes of animated dust 
evolving in the space that’s formed 
from light blue sky of summer morn
to dark brown smells of humic soil,
from child’s first laugh to granite stone.

Here between the pensive ache 
        and passive weight of what must be, 
chaos breaks – the soul is freed 

to stalk the fleeting, ferret meaning, 
        fiercely singing to the night. 
of life bestride the borderlands 
                of birdsong and boulder.

A Summer Morning's Leave

Athens, Georgia

July 9, 2009; revised March 5, 2015

1.

Last night I held your body
        frail, light
        limp from effort,

Until, finally, sleep
        blessed comfort, sleep
        deep sleep, deepening still

While I marked each hour of darkness
        counting your breath
        on the back of my hand

And your pulse in my fingertips
        as steady through
        the night

Breath eased, your heart
        held, you still
        here.  Still.

2.

Early morning is my time
        when the world turns fresh
        and days open doorways –
        To run the rolling land

Pressing breath against pain
        cresting hills, clearing lungs,
        the good earth passing fast,
        to glide with Gaia,

Slow dancing tai chi in grass
        bare feet stained green
        finding balance
        in fleeting moments

Feeling the free flow of time
        rushing through my veins
        still in the flush of strength, still
        grasping for grace.

3.

In the vigor of youth you
        held my premature
        body gently, firmly
        against death, and
        carried me home.

Steady through the years you
        loved one woman
        well, and with her,
        raised up family
        to love and play.

You lived solid, you
        completed duty
        with discipline,
        softening through
        decades of devotion.

And in the stillness of age,
        dear man, you
        accepted decline
        with dignity,
        and in the letting go
                found grace.

4.

I return to your side
one final time, where
forever now
we stand in sacramental hush
heads down, eyes
averted
in solemn witness, so
still, this world
in which I hold your worn-out body
vainly against death
and feel the final brush
of love in your sandpaper chin, still
warm yet now
against my salty face.

5.

You took your leave this summer morning.

6.

Now, early morning is our time.
        I will carry you in my muscles
        in my wind, in my balance
                in my spirit

Until they, too, fail
        and you, once again,
        carry me
                home.