Sunday, February 28, 2016

WICKED - A Poem: Who Causes the First Stirrings?


Rain on my feet creates a
cool sensation. A breeze
whispers under gun metal sky
lined with telephone wires
where birds offer songs
to wake the neighborhood. 

It is peaceful here on my lanai
before morning traffic
fills the boulevard
with restless thoughts.
Bloated, useless, wicked.
Hearts become heavy
under the burden. 

I wait out the feeling as skies
tinge with blue. Light sprays up
from the horizon, while tires
spin on pavement.
Birds perched on wires above
set the mood for the day.
Nature unfolds at its own pace.

I once read that birds perch on telephone wires in a musical pattern. The article also stated that a musician created a score from the birds’ positions and then played the music. I immediately went outside and took a photograph of several birds in formation on the telephone wires stretched along Kapiolani Blvd. They definitely reminded me of musical notes.
This poem reminds me of that scene, and it started me wondering just how much of my writing is influenced by memories of old photographs.
About the poem itself, I find myself drawn to the final three lines. Birds perched on high wires in the morning tend to appear lethargic, almost as though they are only just beginning to come alive; not so dissimilar to coffee drinkers savoring their first cup-a-joe. Then a noise or sudden gust sends the birds soaring, the starter-gun signal that the day has begun and the world is off and running.
Nature does unfold at its own pace, and the poem implies a gentle start to the day. But nature’s pace can at times be hectic. The wickedness of restless human thought may cause hearts to become heavy under the burden. But is it possible the atmosphere of nature has caused the first stirrings?

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