E.C. Traganas

Lark Rising 

In the morning it springs up new, 

but by evening it is dry and withered

~ Psalm 90:6 ~ 

A grain of sand—a rush of air

a mayfly’s wing beats an unspoken thought

Silver-tipped, diaphanous—a pitchless song

where nightbirds hum and beckon dawn

A lonely tundra—a rivulet’s murmur

an open word like wine through veins

A leap of faith—a birth of will

a lark emerges—soaring

Dipping, rising—bobbing right then left

trailing early morning shafts of light

A cry ascends—a cloudburst parts

a willow shivers—bracken coils and twists

Unfolds in frost-like symmetry

the silence screams harmonic brass

The lark spins backwards, one last sigh

a gust of wind—then plummets

A leaf exposed—a sapless mask

a dried and lace-like skeleton

where form and thought once merged

writ in the ancient book of brevity

A silent lark descends

called back to earth to rest its muted head

A powdered dusting of the mayfly’s wing

the day’s blushing complexion at an end

~ forthcoming in the Silkworm Review ~

Author of the debut novel Twelfth House and Shaded Pergola, a collection of haiku with original illustrations, E.C. Traganas has published in over a hundred literary magazines. She enjoys a professional career as a Juilliard-trained concert pianist & composer, and is the founder/director of Woodside Writers, a NYC-based literary forum. www.elenitraganas.com