A Wanderer's Ode

If I could only understand
The song of the dying stream,
Its torrent moving stones
And dry leaves from falling trees,
Its chatter before silence
When even the wind was meek,
Its cascades of bubbling air
Rushing to burst in the July sun,
If I could only disentangle
A word from its faint murmuring
Lulling the tired man nearby
And tickling the face of his child
Or a rhythm from its scream
As atonal as the cosmic whisper
Of a slow-breathing universe
Audible enough with closed eyes,
If I could only hear aloud
The begging of the drying spring,
Its grief, its sorrow, its elegy
Like a gust of wind at its last blow,
I would still be here alive
Listening to the tales of the man
And prodding the listless child
To touch the water and its ripples.

There's a great deal to like in this piece but there are a couple of places where the images are incongruous and don't work for me. If a stream is dying it isn't likely to be a torrent, and if it's moving fallen leaves they are unlikely to be dry. Also if it's murmuring it isn't screaming. "...loudly hear" is bad, the 'loudly' just isn't necessary. Address these minor issues and you'll have a truly stunning poem.

Live and be well - H

"If a stream is dying it isn't likely to be a torrent, and if it's moving fallen leaves they are unlikely to be dry. Also if it's murmuring it isn't screaming."

That's the puzzle-- When is a life dead? Can something alive be dead? Does a murmur scream? Does a scream murmur? Is their a turmoil in silence or a silence in turmoil? There's also a progression in the poem-- from dying to drying.

:)

Ta ! (short for tarradiddle),
tailor STATELY