Something Beautiful


Write something beautiful, she said

write how the red fox shines
standing on the river bank in the morning sun
luscious in fur against late winter's
granular snow and bitter wind

Write about the water wheel
broken at the old mill
frozen in ice
wooden flume empty
but for last year's golden poplar
and red maple leaves
pasted at constellated intervals
by melting snow and wind
on black winter-soaked wood

Yes, nearby a brook surely mumbles
to herself in dreams under ice

A solitary junco flits twig to twig
syncopated peeping in the underbrush

Write about how far away
sun-sails floated by wind-mills
slowly turning
cast cross shadows East
distant bicycles crawl home
along windy canals
past fields where tulips blow
and cattle low

Write about how
somewhere sure as the setting red sun
an apartment tower is built by One
that convulsions of planet
or malevolent beast
can never topple down
nor fire burn
safe for home and bed

Something beautiful, she said.


By C. Van Gorkom