Paul D. McGlynn
On this tranquil Tuesday afternoon,
I stare into your seablue eyes,
Make plans to enter, stay there, live there,
And I notice outside a snowy egret
Flapping over the lake,
The lawn crew roaring their racket.
It's a full day, your eyes invite,
So I dive and swim and take up residence.
Now the egret's gone, crew on their break,
A small white plane crosses the blue;
Afternoon moving slow.
Light arrives from a star I've never seen,
Blazing ten trillion miles away.
It took how many thousand centuries
To travel through the Distance,
Making the palest twinkle
Past the branch of my neighbor's maple.
It arrives like a lover's timid kiss,
Hardly a kiss as it's hardly a light,
But for that a token, the lover's promise:
There will be more kisses.
Just like the star: I am on fire;
Be patient. More light is on its way.
©2005 by Paul D. McGlynn
Paul D. McGlynn is a retired professor of literature and
creative writing, but doesn't consider himself an academic poet.
The major influences on his work have been art, travel,
and love (not necessarily in that order), plus the
work of Wallace Stevens, William Blake, and Allen