by Thomas Davis
He talked about the mirror of the lake,
reflected trees and clouds and sky, the still
so absolute, the waters dark, opaque,
no wind, no breath, no birds, no human will
to mar the moment made for memory
entangled in the webs of days and hours
that jumble, jangle, pounce, drone, laugh, and flee
across and through the fields of flowers
surrounding us and all the love we miss
but know inside our livers, gall stones, hearts
as hours blend into hours, and all our bliss
becomes a mirror that is but a part
of floating on a lake of trees and sky.
As rain begins to fall, a loon begins to cry.
fourwindowspress 
This flows so easily the rhyming disappears. A masterful piece.
This happened a long time ago, Ben
Lovely poem, Thomas; I love the graphic imagery in this.
Julie, it’s good to see you here. Ethel and I think of you every once in awhile. I always love comments from good poets.
This is a pleasure to read Thomas. It brings back to my mind a particular lake surrounded by forest that my wife and I walked around (in Nova Scotia) – no other humans present, but a pair of loons (so unfamiliar to we Europeans) and – amazing sight – an eagle that flew across our path and then back again. Your poem captures the same trance-like atmosphere.
I am glad the sonnet brought back a good memory, John. I wrote it as my son Kevin was nearing the point when he would go into a coma, and the writing of it brought back a wonderful memory too. In this case we were in the Boundary Waters in Minnesota, just having crossed the border line from Canada. The thought of Kevin on that day, so full of life and energy, helped me through another terrible day in Poughkeepsie at the hospital. Loons are wonderful, but we saw many eagles on that trip too.
After reading this, I realized you are a master in poetry and that you know so much about nature!
Ah, thank you, Ina. You’re an excellent poet yourself. I’m not so sure I’m a master, but would certainly like to be one.
This poem brings memory to a place I know, quite like what you beautifully describe, recalling loss and that most haunting call of the loon. I see it, I hear it, it brings tears. Good day’s work, for a poem.
I have got to get to your site, Cynthia. I’ve been up and down lately, but I appreciate your poetry so much that I’ve got to kick myself in the pants and get busy. Thanks for letting the sonnet recall a good memory.
This line is exquisite, Tom….”no human will
to mar the moment made for memory”
Thanks Kathy. The poem was written during a difficult time.
Beautiful recall of your loss Tom and a loving tribute so exquisitely expressed as always.
You are always, always appreciated Christine.
The list is a dangerous business in a poem. ‘The waters [are] dark, opaque, no wind, no breath, no birds.’ Days and hours ‘jumble, jangle, pounce, drone, laugh, and flee.’ Here they form a contradictory movement in a poem that is actually quite meditative. One of the pairs that power the poem. One that cries out for solace and stays silent for relief. The loon can be tearful and crazy. 2’s abound. It is obvious that you get great strength from all of them. Take care of the woods and forests the lakes and rivers—and take care of the words…the words that jumble jangle pounce and groan [my addition] and sing and whisper and hold us together.
Mesmerising and beautiful, Tom. I’m a ‘lists’ man, as you know, and I’m in awe of the effect you’ve created with yours here; it gives the poem a hypnotic, mantra-like quality that’s absolutely in keeping with the setting and subject. It’s one of my few lasting regrets that I’ve never managed to spend more time in such places, but you took me there with your wonderful sonnet. And for that, and the sheer pleasure of your craftsmanship, I thank you, my friend. N.