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peter-oramPoems
20. One’s speaking softly in considered tones, a quietener to his child’s whim. The other’s sailing the contented seas of early love. The storms that tried to strike these brothers down are over now, the bitter taste has passed, and bells of laughter have replaced the stones that once we hurled at one another. Back in the tent, high up on the trapeze, bracing his body for the triple twist, the acrobat swings. The great crowd shifts and groans. He wants their wild applause, but if he’d have it he must seize the point where his arc has slowed and kissed the stillness. For this is his gentle Pentecost, the white dove motionless in zero gravity
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Jul 22, 2013
Jul 22, 2013 at 12:10 PM UTC
sonnet II. 20: between the acts
20. One’s speaking softly in considered tones, a quietener to his child’s whim. The other’s sailing the contented seas of early love. The storms that tried to strike these brothers down are over now, the bitter taste has passed, and bells of laughter have replaced the stones that once we hurled at one another. Back in the tent, high up on the trapeze, bracing his body for the triple twist, the acrobat swings. The great crowd shifts and groans. He wants their wild applause, but if he’d have it he must seize the point where his arc has slowed and kissed the stillness. For this is his gentle Pentecost, the white dove motionless in zero gravity
Written by
peter-oram
Welsh
Jul 22, 2013
Jul 22, 2013 at 12:10 PM UTC
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