In honor of a fellow poet.
The river is stilled as if by an evening greeting.
The secluding light has learned much from a day’s shining.
It rises to your acquisitive aperture, through which it fits
as do your plans for next day’s uncoverings.
You’ve noticed how often people take comfort in
street lamps and pony shows.
(You believe that heels with cushioned support do not detract
from a commanding appearance
and that a cool tint chosen properly will calm a room.)
You remain keenly cognizant
of the air’s unseen disturbances.
(Can you make music from strings stretched too tightly on the pegs?)
Many times you turn again to the banks of placid rivers,
at the community’s sacral nerve
hearing the infectious laughter of youth.
Andy Oram
December 31, 2021