Song of the Yigüirro

[alonso ramoran]

Seeing with the mark of the abyss,
that all-absorbing pupil yet ignorant,
the sunlight touches what distracts me
from the longer struggle,
the slower movement
towards your knowing.

Until then, beloved, we and the sky
and the land are dreams
bending into crimson, cerulean,
green. Do you hear me in the leaves?

I call from shadow, in the musk of dry earth
and brittle things relinquished like dead poems
before the time of rain. Imagining
first, by your response,

the flight under the golden flowers
of guayacanes, I am here,
your chimera returned from nothing.

[dukealien]

I thought this was beautiful before I looked up guayacanes and listened to a recording of the clay-colored robin's song (poor shadow of hearing it in real life, of course).  Now it's three times beautiful, with the live oaks in their three-day golden bloom once each year.

[Mark A Becker]

Hey Alonso-
Wanted you to know that I read this lovely piece, and that I especially appreciated this part:


the sunlight touches what distracts me
from the longer struggle,
the slower movement
towards your knowing.

Until then, beloved, we and the sky
and the land are dreams
bending into crimson, cerulean,
green. Do you hear me in the leaves?

Mark