From the archives – Ostinato — Esther Greenleaf Mürer

Ostinato

—(byr a thoddaid)

Where is the air of yesteryear?
Where are the fields, fallow as deer?
They’re gone, gone in a whorl of brine, to burn
until the rain turns alkaline.

Where are the snows of morrowmorn?
There high up on the Matterhorn
they dance, undecided which way to fall,
point and pirouette all the day.

Where are the stars of nevernight?
You cannot know, poor anchorite
who spurn the milk of skybridges unseen
for the glare of your mean fancies.

Hope remains, like a wire-wrapped string
that sends its ground bass pulsating
under the ever-shifting harmonies
drifting on the breeze from afar.

by Esther Greenleaf Mürer

from Autumn Sky Poetry, Number 14, July 2009

Photo by Christine Klocek-Lim

2 thoughts on “From the archives – Ostinato — Esther Greenleaf Mürer

  1. I really enjoy this poem. I always speak of poems in the present tense.Afterall, once written , they are forever in the present. I have some trouble deciding what is happening as the poem is ending. Is the writer riding off from a hurricane and/ or driving into her own ending ? Intriguing !

    Like

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