Thursday, May 12, 2016

Envying Saint Hildegarde

I want to know her kind of green -

the shade she discovered

alcoved in vine leaves, feeling

 her  soul make chlorophyll.


Light and rain

left on the foliage

converted to a divine sense

of verdancy


that haunted her awareness

of  Life in all places.


Even the rocks jutting

over the sea Their bare shins

scraped by wind and salt,


the shriek of shorebirds

echoing through pale bones

of driftwood and  split-open

ribs of the clam.


Their lament drawn

by everything lost and hollow.


And here, too, where  her Rhine

is a hose trickle in dirt

the spigot grudgingly  gave;


and her abbey's portico.

the stem work of  hedges

half-shaven by rusty shears,


she would find spring

calling her home, cascading in bright

syllables on the desert's tongue.



We're still greening, rooted in the sun

she would say -- but I have yet

to unhood this shadow

and feel such leafing in my veins.



Marcia Ellen Beevre said...

As always, Wendy, Your poetry is wondrous. It's been so very long that I've read your work. I'm glad I stumbled across you blog.

Marcia Ellen

Gwendrina said...

My Word Marcia!!!

How wonderful to see you and hope everything is well and safe in your world. Thank you so very much for this endorsement of my poetry. I am so glad you enjoyed this. I try to update this thing regularly but time does not always permit. Again many thanks!

Great hearing from you!

Marcia Ellen Beevre said...

Hey Wendy. You can't see the tears in my eyes as I read your message. It's so nice to hear from you again. I can't seem to find anyone from the old days. Currently I'm posting my work to I'm recently recovering from triple bypass surgery. I'm home no, rehabbing with my poetry when I get a chance. I hope you don't mind that in my bio I listed you as an influence on my writing. I never got a chance to thank you for all your kindnesses. Now, I can. Thanks for being YOU!

Marcia Ellen