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