Just read over in Aimee Nezhukumatathil's blog that David Citino has died. Citino is one of those poets I've come across many times in my readings but whose works I've never found the time to really dive into. Too bad it's always something like that this that makes me make the time.
...
Shivers in the trees, a stirring
of birds. The crickets chant
their names until my presence
quiets them. I hear the silence
of eternity. They'll sing again
only when I've gone home.
from "The Last Cricket in Ohio Sings a Song of Wilderness". Go to Verse Daily for the rest.
2 comments:
The year’s first frost
balances on days becoming smaller,
until it spills
to still the chirping voices,
patiently waiting
for the Poet to go home.
Even in this Ohio cold,
from cracks in old foundations,
in warm places beneath the Poet’s stone,
his song continues unrelenting,
as his day toppled into night.
Well. Thanks, someone!
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