The fresh morning dew glistens in a spider’s cell
our first breath of aborning day sweet ambrosia
lilt of bird song and response far off in the shell
of woods enclosing us opening onto a calm sea
of thoughts unencumbered by a day’s demands.
These be the blessings we’ll have to carry us
through thorn and thistled ways, this lightness
of well being, illusions perhaps but also true.
Like a Tarot Fool blithely walking off a cliff’s edge
a flower in one hand eyes lifted to the stars,
we too can float above our disasters to be
remembering the early light, the lilt of bird songs
and the freshness in a morning’s breath.
Kent Bowker 9/16/2015
Nightcap Poem #76
The Marsh Intense
The marsh is intensely green now
flat out to the distant drumlins
the river, tide coming in, barely
covering parts at this moment
at the end of the day. The sky
beyond is turning yellow
below the darker clouds.
And the half moon will open
through the cloud gaps
late night passages
to the ocean beyond.
We meditate, no wind
even the gulls are silent
at this moment of closure
as sun gives way to the moon
as if all life, ours too
is suspended. The day dies
as we will too in our cycle
our yellow sky the final rest
as it is tonight for the sun,
as we enter the unknown
realm of the moon.
Kent Bowker 7/23/2015
Nightcap poem # 22
Kent Bowker started with poetry at Berkeley in the Fifties, then became a physicist working mainly in optics. His new book of poems is Katharsis: Sifting Through a Mormon Past. He lives in Essex, next to the Great Marshes and is treasurer of the Charles Olson Society.