John Swain Louisville, KY

~


Muscatatuck River

A circle of hawks with claws locked spiral
blinding the trail of sky and meadow with a gold sun.
Gnawing through bark, I freed my arms
to follow a blacksnake upward through the branches
and into the air dripping with light.
Below in the river, the muskrat gathered earth
to become the gentle mother of the world.
Sentience, our garment, the mind voices a deeper mind
like the song of the waters.
The sun moves from the sign of the ram to the bull
as the dead are released from their linen
with the strength a simple grass leaf emerges
through the opening ground.
And when I went back to the trees,
the forest moved in my body returning to wind.

John Swain is a poet in Louisville, KY. Read other recent poems of his here and right here. Red Paint Hill published his first collection, Ring the Sycamore Sky.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s