Lucille Lang Day

 

 

 

(USA)

 

 

EDGE

 

To be alone,

the world

drawn on an eggshell.

 

The rising moon

casts a blue sheen

on snow.

 

In the distance

lights blink on in houses

where children’s voices

 

rise and fall

to the pulse of seasons

lost in snow.

 

The wind

twists my hair;

winter trees are tangled,

 

rimming this field

where time is a fine crack

opening now

 

under the snow.

 

 

RESPLENDENT QUETZALS

 

Monteverde Cloud Forest, Costa Rica

 

 

Male and female, they sit like gods, high

in an aguacatillo tree, surveying creation:

 

small black fruits

they will eat from red cups

 

fig trees slowly strangling

the trumpet trees that host them

 

green vipers with yellow stripes, nearly invisible

where they knot themselves around branches

 

lancebill hummingbirds

dipping in light

 

violet sabrewings visiting

red blooms of the shrimp plant

 

cardio orchids that pulse

like the hearts of small birds

 

tarantulas dozing in nests

in holes in the forest floor

 

woodcreepers pecking

for insects on trunks

 

mottled owls asleep

in the canopy

 

black-faced solitaires emitting

their squeaky-gate call

 

humans and the mosquitoes

that feast on them.

 

The quetzals see it all and know

it is good.              

 

The male puffs his bright red chest,

adjusts his flowing blue-green cloak.

Mist settles, making his feathers

and all the leaves

of the cloud forest shine.

 

His lady watches, appropriately dazzled,

but these gods cannot rest.

Every year there will be a nest

and young to hatch: so much

remains to be created.

                                                         

 

 

LET ME COUNT THE WAYS

 

I love you the way raindrops love the earth,

chlorophyll loves to capture light,

 

a heart loves to beat

and great horned owls love the night;

 

the way oxygen loves a red blood cell,

nitrogen loves to fill a room,

 

DNA loves to replicate

and pink camellias love to bloom;

 

the way fire loves to leap and weave,

the future loves to become the present,

 

a frog loves to croak at dusk

and iron loves a magnet;

 

the way poppies love to face the sun,

thunder loves to follow lightning,

 

a starfish loves a tide pool

and a geyser loves erupting;

 

the way an enzyme loves its substrate,

stars love to burn and glow,

 

the earth loves to split along a fault line

and the limbs of a child love to grow;

 

the way ferns love a forest floor

and mosses and lichens love stones.      

 

I love you with all my cells and proteins,

nucleic acids, muscles, nerves and bones.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

____________________________________________

 

Writer Lucille Lang Day was born in Oakland, California, and grew up in the San Francisco Bay Area.

Her most recent book is The Curvature of Blue, a poetry collection published by Červená Barva Press in 2009. Her previous books include seven poetry collections and chapbooks, a children’s book, and a co-authored textbook, How to Encourage Girls in Math and Science. She has also published fiction, creative nonfiction, essays, book reviews, song lyrics, science journalism, feature articles, and research papers. Her work has appeared widely in newspapers, magazines, and anthologies.

http://lucillelangday.com/

 

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