The Ancient Modern

 Night Sounds / Joshua Alan Sturgill

Dear one, Dear one, Oh-so-near one
so my mother sings
and her voice is carried
on the wind the sunset brings.

Dear one, Dear one, Never-fear one,
listen where it goes: how the wind
the willow tree caresses as it blows,
how it tells the willow all
the music that it knows.

Dear one, Dear one, Can-you-hear one,
all the tales in all the books
were brought you by the wind?
How it races through the clouds!
It makes them dance and bend!
How it makes the moving pictures
you may never see again?

Willow, willow, softly rustle, imitate the rain.
If you listen, you can hear the ocean in the grain.
And if you’re quiet: father’s feet
sound on the gravel walk,
the spoon that scrapes the mixing bowl,
the heavy hinges of the door
the birds among the haystacks in the loft.

Dear one, Dear one, Sleepy-eyed one
tired of waiting for the moon
mother sings you melodies
father’s coming soon.


All poetry and supplementary material: copyright 2021 by Joshua Alan Sturgill. All rights reserved.

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