A wet black bough on cloudy sky
The pressing sun would tear awry
A single knob formed on the limb
At first a tiny burst of green
then spiral emerald strands were seen
and next appeared a ship-like keel
when finally the leaf revealed
There, side by side, its siblings grew
Their colors changed by light and dew
The breeze encouraged them to play
And as they aged they crossed and waved
then summer sang of light and shade
its music played both night and day
by samba starlight, leaves did sway
As flowers drooped, the fruit would fall
One night the wind brought a vicious chill
Jaundice yellow and fever red
The limbs became a sickness bed
then weakened leaf with its last strength
beseeched the lightened sky's relief
when snowflakes fell, the leaf lost will
floating free down steep mountain streams
in death a solo drifting ferry
through sluices, past rock dams, frail rafts
___ at last consumed by the vast sea
© Gay Reiser Cannon * 2012 * All Rights Reserved
quite the journey that leaf took...i felt a ping when it fell at last...though its trip down the stream i hope was more a viking funeral for it...really nice depth beyond the obvious as well...
ReplyDeletesuch beautiful images... loved it.
ReplyDeleteFine writing - enjoyed the cycles of life
ReplyDeleteI did enjoy that - from start to finish you fulfilled the spirit of the form and made it sing.
ReplyDeleteThis is a beautiful ode, Gay! I felt sad at the end. Thanks for the great challenge. I can't wait to hear what you think of mine:
ReplyDeletehttp://lkkolp.wordpress.com/2012/01/13/ode-to-bees/
Lovely, Gay - vibrant imagery, great form and a gorgeous photo too.
ReplyDeleteDelicious. Just that. Lovely images and gorgeous writing.
ReplyDeleteAn ode, to me, enters a thing like a chapel to experience its full divinity and beauty and pathos ... So we enter here the one with a leaf on its altar, following the grand cycle of the great year from the vantage of the branch, arising from cold spring and aching to fullness then tearing loose on a cold wind and floating to the sea. By so singing, the one becomes a ringing bell of a symbol of the whole grand parade we're part of. Lovely work. Brendan
ReplyDeleteletting go can be so difficult...great metaphor here gay and really love your ode post at dVerse...read through the entries but not sure if i'm brave enough to tackle one myself...
ReplyDeleteit's amazing how sad a story about an empty craft is...and then, oh yeah, it's a metaphor, and i'm just...oh you know...
ReplyDeletethis was hard to write, i'm sure
This is an amazing piece of poetry - one which certainly carries all the flavour of the classics, and I note an allusion to Ezra Pound among the lines. An ode is a daunting form to tackle but you have lead the way with your intrepid gift.
ReplyDeleteVery interesting idea for a poem. I also love the allusion to Pound. K.
ReplyDeleteI loved this :) path of life, feels a little sad, but hopeful. Lovely poem!
ReplyDelete