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Written on the night of the holiday, A Thanksgiving Hymn to the Moon, is a devotion to our solitary neighbor in visible space, our first glimpse into the Universe and to the workings of our enchanting, sometimes frightening and magical, global home. It is written in rhyme, a technique that seemed to come naturally, in the middle of the holiday night.
A Thanksgiving Hymn to the Moon
I
should always like to gather
More
about the moon, for
It
never stays the same
Mysterious,
more and more
Some
nights, like now, its seems to be
A
million miles away from me
Far
above my house and head,
I bend my knee and lean back to see
But
the night before just as it rose
Huge
and yellow, yet softly white
It
seemed just down the street
A
golden night delight
But,
yes, the night, just Tuesday it was
Full,
it glowed behind the clouds
But
once it let its light slip
As if
singing quite out loud
Across
my neighbors pond
Aglow
with fresh snow and ice
A radiant
spot in the deep blue night
A
lunar paradise
Full
its shadows silhouette the lace
Of
trees, that dance across the grass
Illuminates
the river rippling past,
As glittering
starlit sparkling glass
Oh,
yes my friend who allures the tides
To go in, go out, each day
Who
shape shifts on a mystic path
In
rhythmic harmonious way
The
Moon, our friend keeps our lonely globe
Such
sweet company
Oh,
yes I want to know my friend
In
sweet perpetuity
James m. Frase-White
27 November 2015
A second work, Duckling Dreams the Future, was born of reflections on the Hans Christian Andersen fairy tale, The Ugly Duckling, which had enchanted me as a child. So many stories are told to us as children, and many have an impact, and the message of hope and faith exhibited in this gosling, so different from its peers and family, had resonance throughout my life. I'd recently bought an intricate drawing, Gosling, by Jeanette Fournier, of the downy gosling stretching one leg behind, like the most elegant ballet dancer. The grace and beauty of this baby goose seemed to touch off the dream that brought me to put brush to paper, first of just a adolescent swan, which later I developed into the planetary dreamer as shown below. The bio-poem, written in a dialect reminiscent of my natal home, follows.
Duckling Dreams the Future
Felt
ugly did I
They
said so
some
blunt, commanding
respect they called it
demanding
many
with
looks
and
exasperated sighs
some
too polite
with
icy civility
let
you know,
like thoseJim Crow black childs
Ugly
you were
Just didn’t
fit in
The
big goose said, “As we see
You
must be”
Ugly you
are
‘cept
in the darkest of the night
shaking
away the
lay me
down to sleep Jesus fears
to
take your dead-child soul away
But
Then,
Oh,
then
in the quietest
In the
darkest
when
they were All asleep
So
peaceful the world,
a place to be
Then
while
stars & planets sang
deep
blues in the night
Then
Duckling
knew:
“I is I”
Beware
the cities
the
people to fear
They
told Duckling
&
the animals of the forest
We are
protected here
in our
little white town
under
the twinkling tinsel of Bethlehem
but Duckling
knew that in the cities
music
of many grew
and
the fear of the forest
walked
on two legs, whose arms
bore
arms
Duckling
knew that fear
built
on their fear & lust & hunger
Ugly
ones know this
for
the voices sound the malaise
harshly
and silently:
“You are ugly”
Still
Bathed
in the waters of Sainted Johns, Baptist, Calvin & Wesley
Duckling
could not chant their song
Lost
among others
Winged,
like Duckling
With
legs and feet and mouths
Hearts
and minds
Some
minds, Duckling finds
Stop thought,
repeating endless rants
Stop
question and answer alike
In the
box of their heads
Someday
(Duckling knew)
pretty
bird will
Fly
free
Will
flock in a rainbow flock
will
sing different same songs
Whole
as one
all
free
earth
and air and sea
free birds
all of you
flocking
One parent
One earth
Duckling
will say:
We are beautiful
& Home
at
last
J. M. Frase-White
November 2015
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