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George Stallé

 

 

Sunset

 

 

 

A counterpoint to Robert Bly’s “Dawn”

 

Morning light dries to attention

citizens of a flowering new day.

All seek the shade at sunset.

 

Ebbing laughter of throaty shorebirds

skitters and fights through the day,

cleansing bleached hours at sunset.

 

Saltmarsh quivers subside,

osprey clutch opens,

meets the jeweled dance at sunset.

 

A pause at dune’s crest,

God’s measured respite,

a wellspring of hope at sunset.

After the flower

 

 

 

After the flower, certain seeds lazily rise

up and beyond, where they eventually fall

into the darkened stillness of deep water,

carried in meandering whorls

to the moist embrace of woodland loam.

 

They find a home, take hold,

accept the questioning plunge of roots

in their collective search for strength,

blessings from every mist,

nutrients from every soil giver.

 

Launch from the vibrant silence!

Emerge, fortified, to find

time suspended in God’s temple.

With the osmosis of spirits, freedom,

and a song praising the inexorable flow

 

of life.

Row into dawn

Tribute to Toby Wallace

 

 

 

My pulling mates and I

are rowing into dawn

past grasping air

through the vast, black wall

opening, closing

 

Undulant ink swells

surging from below

up and over the leviathan

darkly down the backside

of indeterminate depth

                 

The cosmos, our shepherd,

its gauzy pinpricks weaving

night streaks to starflung miles

pulled into the rolling void

succumbing forever

 

Allowing thrusts above

stroke, lift, one

stroke, lift, two

oblivious while sharing

a collective remembrance

 

Enveloped by the rising, azure cocoon

of the pre-dawn sky

we pull to the unknown

pull to the deeply sonorous call

of dawn’s gentle advance

 

George Stallé has worked in the arts, entertainment, tourism, news media and education fields. He has been a school music teacher for the past 15 years. Originally from Oconomowoc, Wisconsin, he now sheepishly admits to living in New Jersey, and claims to be the only person who has done PR for Shamu, handed Benny Goodman a glass of water onstage, and flown a blimp. A clarinetist and a graduate of the Lawrence University Conservatory of Music, he plays everything from blues to classical. He is also a pretty mean jazz whistler.

 

His first poem, “Alphabet Allegory”, was published in the May 2013 issue of the online journal, First Literary Review-East. “Another way to go”, a piece of flash fiction, was published in the July 2014 online edition of Pure Slush.