Pageant of Seasons. Helen Stiles Chenoweth

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Pageant of Seasons - Helen Stiles Chenoweth

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of swamp grasses,

      fringe of shimmering river—

      sun frames a picture . . .

      Wind and the willow

      make their own patterns, defy

      the stream's roiled waters.

      A blue jay was loved

      though he ate every berry

      prior to our picking.

      Long line of white wash

      crayoned the air with clouds

      and one black shirt.

      A wheeling bee

      ransacks flowering quince—

      drama of defeat!

      Up high the freshet

      announces spring, then hurries

      toward the quiet sea . . .

      Man's stomach hears noon

      in a whistle overhead

      and a young bird cries—

      Importunate wind

      sends jays sunbeam-diving . . .

      man buttons his coat.

      Soughing waters

      and vacancy sign on the house—

      the sea gulls cry . . .

      In this strange garden

      the same notes, the same calls—

      birds of my childhood.

      Archaic smell,

      and yet spring's conscious green

      on moss-grown headstones!

      Boy snares the spring moon

      in his water bucket and dreams

      of rocket ships . . .

      Spring rain pelting down

      on winter's heap of dry leaves—

      sound disintegrates.

      Boy flying his kite

      with authority in string

      and his small hands.

      That old rooftop

      brags of spring in opera voice

      of one mockingbird.

      Gentle reminder:

      for the first mockingbird's song

      there is no title . . .

      Liquid sounds of April:

      that bubbling in the orchard

      from one cow blackbird.

      There is the quiet

      of crickets and tree frogs

      and one man thinking . . .

      Those tossed peanuts

      fail to impress greedy squirrels

      with donor's blindness . . .

      To shed a cloak

      of pain when seeing friends

      with spring's first lilacs . . .

      That moonlight of spring—

      no soporific for crickets

      and mockingbirds.

      Matching spring's wits

      the ball thrown by the boy

      chased madly by the dog.

      Braided ivy vines

      held many bird songs but spring

      chose a single nest.

      The grape hyacinths

      purple the garden path edge—

      no trespassing!

      First, clowning jays,

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