Ode to the Edge

 

 

 

 

 

of barley swept brooms

             or folds lost spun

of moons learned and books overgrown

of clamoring salt or silvered youth

              and stems of tuck

              and tables fussed

              or views knotted

of loosened bends

              and rustled sleep

              in nestled flings

of cornered moons and passing tolds

of borders loved

of lostings over

              and slipping spins.

 

              such bracken faith —

the candled roam

the lights-dimmed rhymes of boyhood

the limbing down and thready pulse

the plunging smear of drizzle dreams

               or sun-set shoulders

the sour blending sounds

               and humming kites up-tugging

and brackish stars or crusted roams

               and finding sounds of evening

               these odes to edge

the cloud’s full-urging scuttle

the dinner lights of boyhood

 

so sandled sky

               the brimming stray and purpled fust

               the daggly sog near by

                            with cresting buds just barely

               the hillside breath

so streakling skies

               the arrows’ lifted grateful view

                             sung-up like curved and few

                             and short as views surrounding

where land rolls far beyond

                 with knowing wings the ways

                 that see ahead.

                 through every dangle heart