AUTISM: A POEM
. . . . . XXVII. At the Outdoor Concert
. . . . . 1
The brass band plays favorite
. . . . . holiday tunes, festive music
in late afternoon one weekend
. . . . . ahead of Independence Day.
A blanket spread wide, we lie
. . . . . on the lawn, watch darkening
blue sky above, horizon tinted
. . . . . with the hint of a new bruise.
A sudden file of black clouds
. . . . . crowds out the sun. Someone
runs quickly across a distant
. . . . . meadow now becoming lost
in shadow. Already, distinct
. . . . . arrows of treetops disappear.
. . . . . 2
As the squall line edges near,
. . . . . my son listens for the far off
rumble. As always, he knows
. . . . . to expect a change in plans—
again he learns of uncertainty
. . . . . that often accompanies him,
aware we cannot even count
. . . . . on this calm summer setting;
and so he wonders how close
. . . . . the storm front’s swift winds,
how soon before we’ll leave,
. . . . . hustling under heavy rainfall,
how much longer until a last
. . . . . note lingers with the thunder.
I like how you foreshadow the storm in the first stanza, and the contrast you make with the "festive music" of the brass band and the threat of "far off rumble" and thunder.
ReplyDeleteI notice, too, as in other of your poems here, how your son has this sixth sense, what you so poignantly describe as often accompanying him, that he listens for and "knows" will change plans.
A line I especially like: "horizon tinted/ with the hint of a new bruise".