Celebration for a Gray Day
At no time in our past has the ATLANTICreceived as many poems as are now submitted to us. They are evidence of an interest in poetry which never slackens. As an incentive for writers yet unestablished, twice a year we set aside a number of pages in the ATLANTICto be devoted to the work of young poets.
Be quiet now and still. Be unafraid:
that hiss and garden tinkle is the rain,
That face you saw breathe on the windowpane
Was just a startled cat with eyes of jade —
Cats worry in the rain, you know, and are afraid.
The nervous laugh that creeps into our room
Is throated in a voice beyond the door.
We hear it once and then no more,
A distant echo tumbling from its loom.
Our time is measured in another room.
that hiss and garden tinkle is the rain,
That face you saw breathe on the windowpane
Was just a startled cat with eyes of jade —
Cats worry in the rain, you know, and are afraid.
The nervous laugh that creeps into our room
Is throated in a voice beyond the door.
We hear it once and then no more,
A distant echo tumbling from its loom.
Our time is measured in another room.
We know clays pass away because we’re told.
We lie alone and sense the reeling earth.
(You whisper in my ear it has some worth)
And I lean near to keep you from the cold.
There are so many things that must be told.
I speak of lost regimes and distant times,
And moon-eyed children swirling in the womb,
And legless beggars prophesying doom,
And afternoons of rain spun into rhyme.
(The patter of die rainfall marks our time.)
We lie alone and sense the reeling earth.
(You whisper in my ear it has some worth)
And I lean near to keep you from the cold.
There are so many things that must be told.
I speak of lost regimes and distant times,
And moon-eyed children swirling in the womb,
And legless beggars prophesying doom,
And afternoons of rain spun into rhyme.
(The patter of die rainfall marks our time.)
As does the waning moon. Or muted sun.
As do the nodding gods who ride the sea.
For even now, alone and still with me,
You sense the bonds that cannot be undone:
Our pulse is in the rain and moon and sun,
We take our breaths together and are one.
As do the nodding gods who ride the sea.
For even now, alone and still with me,
You sense the bonds that cannot be undone:
Our pulse is in the rain and moon and sun,
We take our breaths together and are one.