The Buzzing of Time
If I stand beneath the chestnut tree
long enough, its plumes as tantalizing
as exposed flesh, I can hear more
than the joking, jestering mockingbird
whose high-wire vaudeville makes
me smile. I hear the buzzing of time
that passes like a swarm from pleasure
to pleasure, with luck making honey.
11 thoughts on "The Buzzing of Time"
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love the sounds here:
joking, jestering mockingbird
and adore:
I hear the buzzing of time
Wow! Very deep poem.
Love the sounds, playfulness and depth!
We are chestnut aficionados in our home. We need to make a poster from this!
Love this. Especially like “the buzzing of time…..like a swarm from pleasure to pleasure.”
Beautiful! Such a soothing feeling to read this–even with the “mockingbird / whose high-wire vaudeville . . .” And “from pleasure to pleasure with luck making honey” is a lovely finish!
I, too, especially love the “high-wire vaudeville”
I love “high-wire vaudeville” too. It reminds me that Vachel Lindsay referred to poetry as “the higher vaudeville.”
This one’s magic!!!!
I love the intimacy of “its plumes as tantalizing/as exposed flesh” as we cherish this chestnut with you.
Yes !!!! Someone told me about this poem. I got wrapped up and didn’t catch it before.
Wow !!! Glad they did ….I’ll echo Sylvia, ……magic !!
You did this poem so well I can smell the flowers and the title is a twist that really works. Thank you for sharing this one.