Autumn Drought's End
The creaking, protesting window, unaccustomed to lowering
The forgotten music of water drops against the panes.
The spiteful cracks of lightning, the ominous roll of
Thunder reverberating. The clouds glowering (and lowering)
And the earth parched dusty, sucks at the dents of rain.
Louder the thunder, faster the noisy tympany
Drums against the attic eaves, and swirls the ser leaves
and water rushing through the troughs, a gutter symphony
Rivulets. Cymbals crash. leaves plastered, house shudders.
Where is God?
In the sparkling prisms of a rainbow's hue
The mornings clear sky an azure blue
In a fragrant rosebud, a drop of dew.
There is God.
In a trees lofty grandeur, with limbs upspread
In a rushing river, from a mountain stream fed.
In a golden ringlet on an infants head
There is God.
In the bear of a doves wings as it lifts on high
In the culminous and nimbus in the sky
The limpid eyes of a fawn so shy
There is God.
I, an inarticulate sensitive soul, with out the ability to
put into words the: beauty of the sunset, a trees stalwart limbs,
and whispering leaves - a drop of dew in a roses heart, the
clear eyes of a little child, the music of the rain on the roof.
****
Put words into my mouth, let me not be forever dumb
or give to my fingers that certain touch with a brush
that I might give to others, who do not see these in reality.
Or let my fingers transpose the sigh of the night wind
The hush of natures soothing lullaby to her children
My love, it has become September
Autumn sunlight filter through my senses
with increasing haste
Sere corn leaves rustle the story to astar
cat tail and goldenrod.
a glorious roadside waste
by Mamie Boone
This was a possibly unfinished work labeled "for a poem" by Mamie that I found in a typed collection of her writings. It conveys her desire to express herself along with a bittersweet understanding of her limitations that I found endearing. Also, it seemed like a good place to begin with publishing her writings here.
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