Saturday, December 09, 2006

Green and Gray

A poem, by Ethan Kennerly.

Lichen laden rock o'erlooking frothin' sea. 
Wind ascending scrubs the knoll.  Waves betoll, 
a serpent singing under foot in silent key.
Summer simmers down the nappin' noon time day. 
Yonder emerald firs gather shadows, shiv'rin' 
spring's tune, buryin' shade for winter's play. 
Ere down there a ville is kissin' a merried sea. 
Whisked and frothin' salt, salt whippin' wind, 
whippin' stone away from saline whitened bay. 

With crow-like cawing, winding to a huntin' height,
a boy's pretended wing ensnares the whippin' wind.
Below vermin vault from his faux hawkish sight. 
Green-eyed boy with hair of gold, ascends the slab 
of rock o'erlooking the wroth, sea-beaten bay,
near the serpent hole on the weed-wanton hill. 
He spies a tangle gray, once green, now bleached away.
The perchin' boy laughs atop the lichen laden rock, 
"Ashen tangle, did you have your vibrant day?"

In the wind the rock sits, while the boy trails away. 
"Boy," the rock says, "She was not always this way. 
That shrubb'ry gray was once an emerald queen." 
The boy, fell-laughin', raps the hollow house of prey. 
Out flits the double dagger.  The stab, the stagger-- 
the serpent slinks away a-hissin', "Sap the green!"
While the listless child staggers and lays upon 
the slab of tranquil slate, his green-eyes fade to gray,
near the faint hole dotting the weed wanton hill. 

 
"Harken now!" the voice of stone uprising, unlike 
the hissin' stabber, it says, "Listen and lay.
On my wise slab, lies relief from a poisoned will.
In my day, I traveled round the hill, the wood, 
and high upon the mountain as you can see today." 
The nodding boy, respitten, forgot his bitten wound. 
"Time since, journeys landed me upon the hill
you find me at today.  The sun bespoke in gold,
promising begird ascent among the mounts of old. 

But an emerald swaying in the wind haloed
my hardened heart, so I stay a stone and listen
to hear her windy song along the summer blow.  
My hardened face of gray, collected green, her gift
of tears.  I sat, witnessing her final years. 
One by one the green'ry faded away.  The weeds 
surrounded her, crowded her, sapped her gray. 
She, husk of tendrils, I still see, through lichen lidded 
eyes, an emerald green as cedars in the vale." 

After nappin' hours the sun ignites the sea.
Green-eyed dreamward fallen boy relaxes on
the soothin' stone.  The rock abrades the napping son, 
"Dinner time's come, and mother wants you home to stay.
Get up!  Get home to mother, sister, and kin."
Backtracking to the ville o'erlooking the frothin' bay,
he glimpses at the green and gray, again to listen. 
It says, "There're later days for tellin' tales,  
and I've my comp'ny through the silent night and day."

Comments (0):