A Prelude Open.

A prelude to the open draft from the brush of the groves,
All during the opening of the late hour,
The eons are waiting, while my foot taps—taps—taps,
With a breath from the seams of the warmth outcast,
As the dusk begins to be estranged,
Beginning to scorn, and plenty itself in the eyes,
Of all who watch the billows confound.
While the death of the wind collects itself, alas,
And then braces again—again to the inward conversation,
During the declamations and soliloquy’s,
During the rhapsodic event,
That it was with all fright, with all fright,
That the tree’s eye was as dead as her lady’s.

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Categories: Poetry

Tags: , , ,

3 replies

  1. The last line- is it a reference to a Greek mythological creature? I forgot the name, but there was a creature in Greek myths that was basically like a woman, but it was born of a tree, and in some myths, she also had wooden skin. Is the last line of this poem referencing that creature? Or is it something else I’m failing to notice, which, let’s face it, is probably the case?

    Liked by 1 person

    • That is a very perceptive observation. The last line is not a reference to Greek mythology, though. I was more or less saying how dull the moment was in the poem, especially with the last line, since I was referring to “Mother Nature” being dead itself. It was to emphasize that the moment was lifeless, and the tree was as dead as “Mother Nature.”

      Liked by 1 person

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