Dia Del Sol

by

Doug Larson

I sit in sunwash
eyes closed in red-hued darkness
the chaotic machine drone of the dryer
ringing zippers and buttons against hot spinning metal
with the clamor of birdsong
and cricket chirp rhythm
playing lead against the backdrop drone
of a Saturday in the city

I write what I hear:
the modulated squeal of bone dry hinges
the resonant slam of wood
and the hollow metallic clap of a screen door
as I sit in warm light comfort
the bestial roar of a jet overhead
and the Doppler hum of a small plane
as they blend beautifully
with the muffled singsong of backyard voices
and the distant laughter of playing children

I hear the clamor of plastic trash cans
rolling on hard plastic wheels
the high pitch squeal of disc brakes
and the clacking of gardening tools
A crow caws nearby
and receives an answer in chorus from far away
as the rush of a car drifts by
the street exhaling wind in a mist of sound
fading into the peaceful hum
of this warm spring day

Book pages crackle
close enough to touch
as a hammer strikes wood
beyond my fence
a dog barking its mimicry
in the swish of the breeze
and the rustle of leaves
green bells ringing in quiet branches
rinsed in a cool breath of air
the tight wet squish as I swallow
against the bitter aftertaste of milk chocolate
at the back of my throat
now cleansed in cool relief
with clear spring water

Sun paints the inside of my eyes
changing patterns in banded hues
red-black cracking mudflat hexagons
on olive green lakebeds of swirling algae
flip-flopping negative images
now green on red
inside my head
orange clouds flash white-yellow lightening bolts
and blood-red fireballs
on brown-black seas
as I open my eyes
to a day of hope

a day of sun

NEXT?
Why don't you look at Blessings...
by: Joe Fazio
from: Beverly Hills, CA, US

To visit all of Doug Larson's poems, click HERE

Check out these deals at Amazon.com

...the best independent ISP in the Twin Cities

To write us about this page,
contact willy@dreamagic.com (Willy Chaplin)