Dying Man Hears Thrush
she sings
like a mild lute,
as if peace tuned
her arpeggios.
i don’t know
who fashioned this nymph,
or how she
dispels a latticework
of chirps
to lullaby
in gracious tones-
or why each note
strolls a different hall
of memory,
inlays a sensation
of pure touch, my body
hostage to dulcet phrase-
trill of a gypsy
i never knew,
though trees hoard
her jewelled sighs-
why now
will i melt into delight-
that ancient sensual
immersion?
~ Chris Crittenden
Chris Crittenden says that he is “a quirky hermit living in the easternmost town in Maine, just a few miles from the Canadian border,” and that “the beautiful nature inspires me, but I hate the way that development threatens to gobble it up!”
Leave a Reply