Poetry of Cy Dillon: Sundays, Planting Season, and Composition

Sundays

We came early
To open the little church
Raising windows
For the morning air
Greeting neighbors
Easy in oak shade

Rituals progressed
The day’s heat grew as assertive
As the ruined soprano
Fronting the choir
And the wasps awoke
To sun and music
Pouring down from the chandelier
Carrying our prayers
Through open windows
To the empty sky

Planting Season

Where my day’s harrowing ends
The mountain catches
Sun’s last red light
Thrown from below the horizon
And holds it before me
Blood on gray rock

As I walk home
The mirror of night
Reflects cold stars
Above the intimate
Warmth of lighted rooms
Where the only food left
Is the seed corn of our dreams

Composition

Light steps
Fall
Sunday morning
Milkweed down
On early breeze
Following the ridge road
Past perfect upland fields
Narration emerging from the path
Ghostwriting an autobiography of God

Copyright 2008, Cy Dillon. © This work is protected under the U.S. copyright laws. It may not be reproduced, reprinted, reused, or altered without the expressed written permission of the author.

Cy Dillon is a college librarian and coeditor of Virginia Libraries (http://scholar.lib.vt.edu/ejournals/VALib/). His poems may be found on the web in Maverick Magazine, Eclectica, and Red River Review.