by Kendrick Smithyman
Prodigal landscape scouted its three great
species down from skyfall, rigged centerpiece
to rational memory, though remiss
in clouded winter. The members, spatulate
for holiday fingerings, inward are dark;
smooth, outsoaring bulk gleams strange. Where grace
sloughs ease, feeling unfrozen plays.
Mock boy, mock girl: soft answers find their mark.
It would be simple, launched, to take a tumble.
You end dispute, brought to its lowest term.
Only a habit holds of standing firm
on sand or rabbity pumice - there, dissemble
vainly. The mountains have not approved
your playfulness; nor do they care to be loved.
Last updated January 14, 2019