Morning
A long day on the road brought on a long night’s sleep.
Awake now in a shadowless motel room, I open the curtain.
Outside, the thin scant pasture drawn over glacial rocks
is fantastical as sleep, dreams, or clarity in a strange room.
It is a space where nothing is blurred, or out of balance,
an oasis, with songbirds like choral chambers, and the sun
building palaces of light in lunettes of clouds,
pouring out brightness, depositing its warmth and promise
all across the morainal contours of the landscape.
Noon
By checkout time the sky has boiled itself into something more ominous.
Charcoal-ash-colored clouds roil, curdle, and blunt the light.
Feathery sheets of shimmering rain walk across the long line of far hills.
The birds are silent, the sun is a blank.
I see the front well up over the horizon.
I see it break across the plain like a wave.
I see it devour the long black cord of highway behind me.
I see yet another metaphor for my life churning in the rearview mirror.
Night
The pink and purple vault of evening is closing in around me.
I am deep into this great, dark space in the middle of it all,
far from the lights and tombs of the city,
far from the press of bodies, from a world that unbalances me.
Exhaustion and darkness bring sleep,
a chance to go where boundaries do not hold,
where a fallen tightrope walker, whose imagination survives him,
who now climbs the long ladder, a true self at last, is perfectly balanced,
lithe and bold on the highwire, trying to prove his life was not a lie.
Oh, wow.
Morning: Phenomenal and surreal. Perfectly put together. I particularly love:
“Outside, the thin scant pasture drawn over glacial rocks
is fantastical as sleep, dreams, or clarity in a strange room.”
Noon: Doesn’t daytime seem the most difficult time, compared to morning and evening? Not just because of 9-to-5, but because there’s something droll and doldrum about the sun being high in the sky. The nothing that is noon. Morning holds promise, evening holds rest. Noon is limbo.
And to see that storm rolling in…reminds me of the plains.
And to see a metaphor for your life “churning in the rearview mirror”–the endless change of objects, circumstance, thought, mind, phenomenality…..
Night: The pink and purple vault of the firmament is comfort, is ease, is closeness and darkness.
“a chance to go where boundaries do not hold”–not always a good thing for my nightly rest, but it is…hopefully…a good thing.
“whose imagination survives him”
“a true self at last”
“trying to prove his life was not a lie”
I adore the above three lines, for their ingenuity….but now as I write this, I see Sisyphus ever pushing the boulder up the slope, and I try to imagine him, as Camus advised me to do….”happy”.
Beautiful, provocative work.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you Holly, I am really happy you found good things in this poem. It comes out of my irritation at a poem I read and this is my way of righting a poetic “wrong”. I have crossed the plains a number of times in my life, starting when I was 6, so some of this poem comes from my memories of driving across the country as a child and an adult. The last lines are based on something I read about a drowned swimmer in a Mark Strand poem where a life turns out to be a lie and I didn’t like that conclusion, our lives are not lies, for me, life and death are our most basic truths, I mean, what else do we really know? Love and its opposite? maybe. I always appreciate Camus’ advice on just about anything.
LikeLiked by 1 person
good to see you writing again, Ron. as for the last line – I have run out of proofs, and rungs. it’s now just the long fall.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I hope you have a gentle landing in a finely knit net, I guess that’s what I hope for anyway.
LikeLiked by 1 person