The Sun, the Trees, the Clouds, the Grass
by Bill Yarrow
I.
The sun was a dish of burnished courage
The trees were a masque of plaster axes
The clouds were a ring of singing whispers
The grass was a shrug of humble comfort
II.
The burnished sun was a dish of courage
The plaster trees were a masque of axes
The singing clouds were a ring of whispers
The humble grass was a shrug of comfort
III.
The sun was a burnished dish of courage
The trees were a plaster masque of axes
The clouds were a singing ring of whispers
The grass was a humble shrug of comfort
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Author's Note
This poem appears in WRENCH (erbacce-press, 2009)
The poem appears in Pointed Sentences (BlazeVOX, 2012).
Other stories by Bill Yarrow
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That is so clever, Bill. Each verse still works so well. I think I like III the best, though!
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Wow...what can I say? I read this four times in a row it took hold so firmly for me. Both lyrically skillful and also playful and important somehow. Important maybe in that it shows us the power of language, the magic of words and word choice, in a way I've not seen in long while.
Wonderful wonderful and then wonderful again! Each stanza stands on its own, and yet as a group, they form this wondrous whole. Magic images here, all the way through. I love coming here and finding your poems, Bill. Fav indeed.