Twenty-Third Amanita Ode: New Tatters

The great spastic glass of the Sun
in winter's going glare.
 
::
 
Wind's antic helicoid
winding upward through the tree.
 
Agitations.
 
A
web's
sinews'
yellow
radiance.
 
::
 
Circles of wind rapture
the young hawk flashes through.
A robin's nest she stops
to plunder.
 
::
 
Easter Moon
that blooms above a reef of cream.
 
Vernal silver the house is steeped in.
 
::
 
Soaring vulture's shadow dowsing
the hillside's sunlight—
 
in which others are roosting. Wings in hieroglyph
a glossy pitch
engraves.
 
::
 
I need that noonday Moon
hanging in the sky.
 
::
 
The sawing strokes a warbler sings.
 
::
 
What is this
anteworldly lunar syrup
spores of life course along
cresting through the thawed crust
mayapples like seaside parasols shelter
in spring shade?
 
::
 
Án oriole narrating his involvement with some blossoms.
 
::
 
That house sparrow splash landing in the lilacs.
 
::
 
August evening's earlier ending
when thought itself sublimes.
 
::
 
Talk's vanishing esses in the cicadas' cycling ratchets.
 
::
 
New Day Rising
 
Sun on pine.
Morning's glittering indices.
 
"This stuff is Ice Age."
 
::
 
Those
bluejays'
new day's
relayed
jeers.
 
::
 
Waning lustrous slate autumnal Sun—
wind's distant engine roar.
 
::
 
Three monostiches
 
I. Lakeshore's bluish dusk mid-November dims down.
II. That's the lake's glaucous glass a cormorant's invisible vortex scratches.
III. Ánaccidental eternity the lake's waves swell with misten lumes in aerosol.
 
 

Copyright Credit: Peter O’Leary, "Twenty-Third Amanita Ode: New Tatters" from Earth is Best.  Copyright © 2019 by Peter O’Leary.  Reprinted by permission of Peter O’Leary.
Source: Earth is Best (The Cultural Society, 2019)