Monday, February 1, 2016

beekeepers lament

gossamer thread worn thin holds fast
beekeepers dance by the secret deer track
willow creek bends to the moonlit wind
over the hill--then back again

stretch a new canvas a thousand feet wide
pinned & buckled by a snowy owl's cry
two broken barns it flies between
gessoed white by flying machines

paint a landscape thick and true
inked with blood and certitude
fiddler plays long into the night
when snow it comes, the fire burns bright

beekeepers & minstrels gather to flame
lovers & poets weave a gambled game
a path is taken, a fable begun
of white-birch firelight & honeybee rum

winter's storm becomes the canvas becomes midnight
plein air painting--our blue-gray acolyte
frosted river echoes sandhill cranes descent
this glen--this tale our beekeepers lament

gossamer thread worn thin holds fast
beekeepers dance ....











No comments:

Post a Comment