deepundergroundpoetry.com

An Ode to a Hartford Seer

Listen. Already, in spring's silence,   
We hear sparklers, running across lawns     
And through half-deserted streets,
 
Embodying a spirit of verdigris     
Which embellishes, however faintly,     
Both equinox and solstice—
 
A vestige light, meant to reassert     
The predominance of spruce-needles,     
Against oncoming dusk.
 
But, if such muses seldom attend,     
Like quiet supplicants upon our stage,
And less frequently invoke
 
A grey-bearded oracle, straddling       
The distant, rolling waves off Paumanok—     
Instead, we may entrust ourselves,
 
As candles exist, without flame,   
But as flame cannot exist, without air.  
As the insurance man, waiting
 
Until someone brews more coffee,      
Will continue seeking the impassioned      
And redeemable phrase.
Written by Sartoris
Published | Edited 21st Apr 2019
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 2 reading list entries 0
comments 0 reads 450
Commenting Preference: 
The author encourages honest critique.

Latest Forum Discussions
COMPETITIONS
Today 4:56am by NANCY_RDZ_STORIES
SPEAKEASY
Today 4:15am by Grace
SPEAKEASY
Today 3:33am by DCLXVI_1989
COMPETITIONS
Today 00:41am by Louismatteo349
SPEAKEASY
Yesterday 11:19pm by Ahavati
POETRY
Yesterday 11:05pm by Grace