Equinoctial Chant Poem by Stan Petrovich

A.
Even, neve
Neverending summer calms
At costs. The beads of sweat
Dripping off my nose, and the mulberry
Leaves riot in primary
Colors, along with their brothers-
The cottonwoods of the West,
Our maples flapping in the breeze,
Vinegar elms, poison oak,
And my friend the hophornbeam.
Burning bright.

But the Tyger never drops
Her ornamentation, never gives
Counsel to her shadow
Steeped directly to the east or west
At twilight time. We do.
We do.

We are the ones
Who walked into the night
And paid heed to the alignment
Of stars and the grandeur
Of the mountainous steeps, boulders
Flowing, in autumn,
In a riot of color.

B.

The evergreen
Stands too proud
To change.
Is pride wisdom?
Hardly.
Is wisdom
Constancy?
Yes; to them those
Neighbors are partying animals,
Drunks of the woods.
Adverse to noise
Are the wise;
But distended in color
For though is prismatic in nature:
There can be no black of night,
Only the hammering home
Of raw color.