Percussive Grace
by Gideon Burton
Percussive grace, as frequently and sure
as rivers washing silt to moonless shores
along that deep and silent corridor
in which both time and space collapsing blur.
Unlike the rain–whose fingers pry and twist
the faces we had readied, pale and low–
the drumming wind both warm and burning slow
discovers porous reasons we had missed.
Relentlessly the purity of stark
forgiving winter muzzles seeping greys,
announcing mutely what the sinner prays:
his angry words, her testimony, dark
enough to merit contrapuntal light,
more vibrant in its chiaroscuro fight.
Feel free to copy, imitate, remix, or redistribute this poem as long as you give proper acknowledgement of authorship
Photo: Keith Sketon, www.californiaphotographyworkshops.com
I must admit, this one sent me to dictionary.com just to make sure you weren't making some of those words up.
ReplyDeleteAnd just to prove my own nerdiness, I only know what counterpoint is because of a Voyager episode of the same name.