Friday, March 27, 2015

B.Z. Niditch- Three Poems


Uprooted by first light
in the Green Mountains
by mushrooming
pockets of dreams
yet redeemed by sunshine
on blankets of snow
of stolen nights and dawns
wearing animal skins
amid a stunning sun
in a collapsing coat
and carefree hood,
trying my hand
at a play about Whitman
with blue-penciled verse
now featured in photos
taken by a distant mutineer
with his St. Bernard
and my recusant energy
cold shouldered for now
up for a ski jaunt.


Bruised conversation
on a local show
of this poet years ago
on a stolen spring dawn
in his polished boots
among camera lights
a heavy silence
of reverie takes me over
mesmerized by camera
with Laddie his sheepdog
having his media debut,
I take out my early collection
of poems, "Freedom Trails"
about revolutionary Boston
and speak, sigh free
hopefully grounded
by questions and answer.


In a void
from cabin fever
unable to venture out
and seeing the green fir trees
among the shadow
of pure white drifts of snow
hiding my body
disclosing my eyes
like a forest brown bear
hibernating by a mirror
a poet in a faithful minimalism
of animal magnetism
trying to save the earth
and the overflowing oceans
from man's pollution
while hardly saving myself
from a child's confidential time
as my shadow stretches
for a once mile run,
it seems like a miracle
just to eye the sun
from my absent green eyes
against the seasonal pull
pleading for any harbinger
like a Canadian robin
on my dark corner sill
where a few geraniums
still survive
in my sound proof studio
aching for first light
of spring to take a picture
of bird watchers or ice fishermen
at the slippery edge of the dock.

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