• POETRY •
Odes to Monona
“The vast immortal suns and the long-enduring pensive moons shall again shine.” – Whitman, from “On the Beach at Night”
Little White Roses
Father and child walk away from courts,
the sand and the concrete
wide open under the Yahara Park oaks,
where the small bands of canvasbacks sun,
glistening green heads
velvet and luminous as lit felt,
and find two jutting rocks to watch
the friendly blue day stay, finally, permanently,
no longer a temporary guest of April.
Shoes off, the clear shallow water
cool up over the white toes, cool over the ankles
cool up to the white knees,
have they seen each other over winter?
Does the season set out a slumber
that does not awake until long days of May
turn like slow pages, white after white
the stories on the pages grow,
and along the side street houses
the tulips and daffodils grow, yellows
like sun flares, purple gentians
that lean in behind them, they on the rocks
listening to voices other than their cold own.
Bookmark these days on the rocky beach.
Bookmark the gently fingers
of sun across the front of the the neck,
out there, the fisherman, who are they
but neighbors of water,
neighbors of spring,
the fish they hook still cool and young
little white roses
by stems that grow up through
the ever shifting water columns.