| Poetry |
|
| Books | |||
|
By Bob Bender   Soft you now First light be slow breaking Over the cross sound Cat Island pines Onto the face of the new moon tide Spartina blades in silhouette  Feel the calm Still air on a moss hung morn Puff of down feather slowly on the drift Perchance from nestlings cradled near Large eyed and quiet waiting  Now the sun Steady on bodes hours sultry Raising a shimmer over the mud banks Gators and cooters lie by lids closed As beads form on the brow  Comes the breeze Sending marsh grass rolling Steady onshore winds up river flowing Bringing movement to tree shadows A cool caress most welcome  Hide and seek In intricate chains connects all As myriad beings play out life’s game Plying innate and mysterious skills So to eat and not be eaten  Low the rumble Late afternoon comes knocking With all too familiar cloud banks rising An easing wind and growing hush The scent of rain wafts nigh  Across the bay Now sweeps a curtain heavy With the flash and roar of angry gods Crashing down all ‘round in fury Spending itself weak with loss  All is quiet Save the cadenced pat of droplets In consort with the coming darkness Harbingers of the tree frog choir Moon through parting clouds
|