| Five
Poems James Braziel |
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Ditty In the creek swiftly, the eyes of a schoolgirl dancing, her scarf free to rudder her body through the March wind. What a day for kites, for limbs to break and fly up, up, the bark peeling in curls like lost feathers from a darting swallow, the whole sky opening in blue, in silence. The wind talking? It is a trick of force, stopped by the stone pillars at the river, the boles sloping down the banks. Only the girl seems affected, skipping and turning, |
whistling a ditty the wind overtakes with its speech, sends up-a whisper for the burning sun. Lonely Sky Lonely sky, breaking with the anticipation of snow, the frozen ground and trees tense, on alert for the drifts, drifting down-the scene becomes peaceful then, the earth remade, full of wet-white, a covering as cottoned as the sky. For now bicycles cling motionless to rails, gutter drains open to the ground with nothing but the March grass pointing sharply to clouds moving in.  |
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