Sunday, August 5, 2012

Evening Song



Evening Song

Do you see the grackle,
a  silhouette
on the birch,
his song harsh
like a rusted hinge,
his eye,
yellow as the sun?
He inflates
his chest and sings.
Listen…
hear him scrape open
the gates of  evening.
His metallic squawk
sings
down
the sun,
invites the darkness in.


Wait,
do you see the grackle,
his iridescent silhouette?
Listen…
hear him screech...
calling down the darkness,
summoning
the moon.


The photo is mine.

8 comments:

Deborah Carr said...

..."hear him scrape open
the gates of evening." Simply perfect, Carol.

Crafty Green Poet said...

That's excellent, very descriptive! I like the idea of the grackles' harsh song singing down the sun

Carol Steel 5050 said...

Thanks for your comment CGP. I yearn to write poetry as well as you do, so this feels like significant feedback for me. Thanks so much.

Jeri Landers said...

"his song harsh like a rusted hinge", that is GREAT! Love the entire poem, Carol.

Carol Steel 5050 said...

Thanks Jeri,

It is a grating song the grackle sings but he is enthusiastic and proud, despite his being unmusical. Thanks very much for your comment. I appreciate it.

Carol Steel 5050 said...

It feels good to get great feedback. Thanks Deborah.

Mama Zen said...

"hear him scrape open
the gates of evening"

That is just gorgeous!

Carol Steel 5050 said...

Thank you Mama Zen. I was pleased with that line too.