SOUNDS OF THE FALLS ON THE TEN MILE

Something I made

IN the spirit of this blog and acting on my new determination to stop waiting to get better and instead to do something that I can do now. That is the only way to make it better--I post the  DRAFT of a poem I wrote for a Workshop I enrolled in online.

 SOUND THE TRUMPETS--- here goes  a draft of a SOUND poem

Late Spring on the Banks of the TEN MILE RIVER

I park the car so we can see the falls;

it shimmers like shook silk,

 still water  above the low dam

beaten to froth below

like beer foaming in a glass.

I lower the windows, warmth enters

bringing with it murmurs like slurring drunks:

waters never silent shush.

Swans slide slowly over the upper pond, 

 swaying  in their bronze mirror.

Their wake churns seed pods and leaves;

below shallow water gurgles

between suds and tree snags.

Three geese fly low under the bridge

squawking loudly as they land.


Ungainly, flapping, skimming,

they break the calm as kids do

let out at recess or late inning

batters slide into home plate

smash through a wall of cheers.

This is a description of the sounds that I enjoyed today as I sat with Yash  in the Pawtucket Country Club parking lot--very near the falls.