In the noon of her day|
She bloomed in amoeban pools.
Green became her terrestrial smiles;
A cradle for water birds,
Their grassy feet keeping time
To march flutes.
Savanna sang her song in the haze
Of a sea born day, gulls played
At the gateway between nature and man,
Gold fingers polished seeds;
Emeralds of Savanna Green
In swamp earth.
Today the sun shines on the gateway.
Gold fingers reach down
To caress iconic towers;
Tall hosts of bezoar, home of the aged.
The recessional plays
There is no shade for Savannas
Sweetness, no place
For her to stay, to rest.
Cement elbows lean on the horizon,
Her emerald face
Gone to dust.
The tropic rains fall
As the recessional plays.
Savannas song is crushed
Between steel toes
Tapping out an asphalt melody.
Can you hear
The twenty-first century?
Sandy Lulay, originally from Woodstock, New York, is a resident of Stuart, Florida. Lulay is an "Original Woodstock Girl" who has been writing poetry since age ten. Many of her poems have been published both in Woodstock and Stuart's Sleeping Bear Review. She is currently working on a collection of poems that express the true soul of Woodstock, America's first art colony.
Please, DO NOT steal, scavenge or repost this work without the expressed written authorization of Swans, which will seek permission from the author. This material is copyrighted, © Sandy Lulay 2001. All rights reserved. No part of this material may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
This Week's Internal Links
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Part II: Congratulations, You Are Green! - by Deck Deckert
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Barbaric Silence - by Milo Clark
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