BY MARK CLEMENT
Mark Clement is a member of the Ontario Poetry Society. Copyright rests with the author.
We paint those reliable tones
of earth and sky, dark and light,
with shadows placed where they belong.
The future song is spring and fall and all
expected seasons are in their proper place.
Brown grass confirms the need
for rain, for sun to take it back
and warm the fallow fields;
another season, a gentle reason
understood in our compliant hearts.
We are heroes and our song
echoes in the infinite night sky
because we wish it so, because
we wish it so and surrender
like a burnished leaf
fluttering in the wind as it moves
from branch to root.
We are larger than the full night sky,
more subtle than the earth-brushed tones.
Rain moistens our dry tongues.
Shadows are smaller
because the sun is always high