Evening Sizzle-fish and Fiddleheads

By RUTH HILL

POETRY SEMIFINALIST

Empty like a hollow reed
I let the wind blow through me
My many buckets hold the sea
sloshing sloshing

My repertoire of bird calls
Metonymy of operatic movements
opus red-wing
piccolo vireo
my mezzo oboe owl
zarzuela tone of timbre in the timber
pastorale héroïque

You have no claque of crows or starlings flapping
no raven’s sudden coup de glotte
no entr’acte intermission
no genera chico chickadee
au contraire no haute-contre
These, I have, and plenty

A late Kammersänger
calls down the falling stars
tame the fire; ring of rocks dries my socks
cooks my dinner, sinner fisherman
berries and hazelnuts, sorrel and seaweed
banquet on a blanket
balcony among arias and coloratura
green velvet curtains closing

My blue tent has a sky-watch swatch
Lights on the theater ceiling, millions of stars
show, “I was here, I was here!” for millennia

Earth, but a vessel or a skin
that fertile springing forth, delicious harvest
not you, but what you give
inside outside and the going
and coming back again

 

Ruth Hill was raised in upstate New York and has traveled North America extensively, including Kentucky, Alaska, and British Columbia. She is a Certified Design Engineer and lifelong tutor. She has won first prizes in Gulf Coast Ethnic & Jazz Poetry, Heart Poetry, Lucidity, Poets for Human Rights, and Writers Rising Up! Little Red Tree Books will publish her first full-length collection in 2014. She welcomes email at ruthhill@joiedevivregardens.ca.


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