Avon's Swan

The gray-green ripples danced in welcome
I crossed the ancient bridge and sat
I waited for mind and flower to blossom
on personal bladed welcome mat

I craned my neck to see a swan
Wondered if white or gray
Was the sweet swan of the avon
Her feathers a mix of ink and clay

I spied her by the leaning willow
Neck long and planned with grace
Unmoving with places to go
I knew the lines in her face

What are the poetic lines I draw?
Will they linger or fade away?
Like a swan on a running stream
Will only written remnants be conveyed?

She, dressed in robes of secrets
Fanned tablets written upon with quill
Followed by famous blankets
Greatness penned upon by great Will

Who is this swan that swims alone?
Breaths a fresher spray?
Could she write songs by floating in past’s foam
Will frailty be displayed?

Unanswered all questions left behind
In Avon for grayer, dark, day
The wordsmith, the swan, and I are gone
To find a better way.

~DaLe



(This was written while sitting upon the banks of the Avon--William Shakespeare's Birthplace--as the sun set one evening.)

One by Two; Two by One

I wrote this earlier this summer, but last night's rain made me think of it.


I sat and listened to the patterned rain
until it learned my mind,
playing on the solitude, laughing
at my sheltered quiet.

Without thought, I ran from disheveled room,
heedlessly flung open my door.
Without pause, I leaped,
Embracing drizzling pockets of heaven.

I left my sloppy socks like shells
on the pavement, the sound gripping me to swirl
up and down with each gust,
the dance forming in my lungs

I stopped, the movement inward turning.
I lay on the pavement like a mountain
unmovable, but reaching upward
with my palms flat on spiritual gray.

In Noah’s honor, I believed the rain,
allowed myself to drown in its wrath.
Then watched my rainbow past float
in the gutter, disappearing in arced grates.

With closed sight concentration,
I memorized each drop’s bond
inside the creases in my face—
Added my own, then, to The Fall.

April rain fused to my skin,
I returned to the world of dry,
But forever felt, somehow, foreign
I had become rain dancer.

~DaLe 04.15.09

Boat Fishing

You caught my eye

Though I thought it useless to try

I still smiled when you passed my way.

The corner of my eye kept mental notes

That only heightened secrets hopes

That your eye would catch me someday

Then once your eye found mine

I tried hard to read the facial signs

As I floated in that generous river blue

Your words were like fishing twine

Reeling me in line by line

Hooking my heart inside a warm slough

I’d like to laugh down this river with you

See where it takes us to

When we’ve laughed so hard we get sore

That’s what serious conversation will be for

Each meandering in our stream of happiness

I’d like to grow down this river with you

Life can burn me a time or two

‘Cause really those burns are like skipping rocks

Giving depth to backward-twisted clocks

Being with you only brings happiness

I’ll ride this life-boat along your side

And promise come low or high tide

To sit by you and equally row

If you give me your best, I’ll give you mine

And with our efforts combined

Could come more happiness…

If we don’t try,

We’ll ever know

~DaLe 07.21.09