a double sunflower gazing east on this scorching
morning takes note of nothing except sunlight's
spectra—for you, the red lean-to, tin roof weighted by
truck tires, sheep fence heaped & spilling from the front,
is inseparable from the surroundings: power lines, a
magpie preening on a stop sign on the lookout for death—
no anger no sorrow no despair in a landscape until
you take it in—sure, the rocky south face of the mesa—
basalt, morning glory, backhoe—glares sun-blistered—
but the meadowlark trilling at noon from a mullein in
yellow flower could make you stop an instant, thinking:
the brilliance of the cosmos within a feathered body—&
your vision evaporates on August’s desperate wind
Jack Hayes
© 2015
"the brilliance of the cosmos within a feathered body..." I was just saying to my son today, everything is astronomy. You don't need a telescope (although it's very nice if you have one).
ReplyDeleteI haven't read a JH for a while! I'll be back later to read the others (poems should be savoured like whiskies).