Stephen Fuller *** Poetry, Essays

‘I am a mere child…’ a first draft poem by S Francis

I am a mere child, sitting at my window
Any window, not always ‘mine’ just the one
That keeps ‘out there’ out there behind a glass wall
Strong enough to protect me; until I hear the noise
Or what some might call noise, to me I hear a
… Chorale song, of nameless birds, or baying coyotes,
Or the disturbing grunt of a deer, or, in the distance,
Cows, frogs, crickets on and on and on…
Across plowed corn fields these noises sing
To be renamed, to be baptized, to be sanctioned,
To be anything but what might be presumed
Solitary noises of servants meant to meet us
At our need. I look out this glass wall
See the land curve and wave at me, a seductress
Calling me forth and into her, where I will come
Like a new boy (re)discovering himself from wood
In the dance a body does with another. Vast… vast
Like the gods intended, whomever chose to show
Up today. Yes these songs call me out to play
A child ready to hide, ready to seek, ready to spin
Bottles and bats, ready to see just how high this ball
Will bounce. Note mere at all. Not mere at all.

12 Responses to “‘I am a mere child…’ a first draft poem by S Francis”

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