Thursday, April 14, 2011

A Plethora of Pantoums: Reverie

The cold rehearsal mentioned yesterday lead to a cold dress rehearsal and a brown bag supper in a cold upper hallway two nights later. After we ate, Warren prepared for concert by reviewing his music, while I shivered, watched the snow fall, and thought of summer.

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Reverie

There shall come again bright sun,
The heat of the day rising up.
But tonight it is cold.
We have weathered so much already.

The heat of the day rising up
From the garden hazy with promise.
We have weathered so much already.
The sharp tang of summer is far away.

From the garden hazy with promise
The mysterious smell of growing rises up.
The sharp taste of summer is far away.
My tongue has forgotten its flavor.

The mysterious smell of growing rises up.
My hands search the vines.
My tongue has forgotten its flavor.
Where is that season in this long cold?

My hands search the vines.
(But tonight it is cold.)
Where is that season in this long cold?
There shall come again bright sun.

1 comment:

Terri said...

I love the way the lines repeat in this...the smell of growing rises up. Is there a name for this form? I do not recognize it...but then there are MANY poetic forms I do not recognize.