A gentle silence
The one held when forums rage
An inner picture
Painted in pastels
Not beach scenes
Not the ones reprinted and put in plastic frames
But perhaps a pagoda
In a country field
With a few jumping crickets
And a few hidden bees
Enough to make the corners hum
Catching perfect winds
And vibrating so
The song of pollen
So fast it flutters
Like the wings of a hummingbird
The bees finding their way
A circular pattern of flight
Like around the inside of a jar
Whirring up like a spring
And then plummeting quickly
Only to wind up again
To an unknown ceiling
Perhaps a cross breeze
Or a dividing temperature
Not seen by naked eyes
The orbs on the outside
That outer picture
Showing calm waters trickling
Meters below the soil
In limestone safety
Another strata
Of temperature and action
A percolating
Near silent
But very much in charge
A steady something
Beyond reason
A must
Working slowly
The effort unknown
Proof in texture
And color
And pervasiveness
--
6.24.13
The one held when forums rage
An inner picture
Painted in pastels
Not beach scenes
Not the ones reprinted and put in plastic frames
But perhaps a pagoda
In a country field
With a few jumping crickets
And a few hidden bees
Enough to make the corners hum
Catching perfect winds
And vibrating so
The song of pollen
So fast it flutters
Like the wings of a hummingbird
The bees finding their way
A circular pattern of flight
Like around the inside of a jar
Whirring up like a spring
And then plummeting quickly
Only to wind up again
To an unknown ceiling
Perhaps a cross breeze
Or a dividing temperature
Not seen by naked eyes
The orbs on the outside
That outer picture
Showing calm waters trickling
Meters below the soil
In limestone safety
Another strata
Of temperature and action
A percolating
Near silent
But very much in charge
A steady something
Beyond reason
A must
Working slowly
The effort unknown
Proof in texture
And color
And pervasiveness
--
6.24.13
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