‘The Calm’ by John Gray The Society June 24, 2014 Beauty, Poetry 1 Comment That distant bellow is merely a case Of west wind rushing through the tamarack In a race with itself to cliff and back, Far from the lake’s quiet undisturbed face But for the waxwings’ endless mayfly chase, The roll of shore-bound flotsam, bric-a-brac Topped with foam, following a daubed-light track Of welcome ripple at a breeze’s pace. Nothing bothers the lake, not thick eel grass, Not the murmurings of air-flow. the creep Of painted turtles’ it lets all those pass That need its shelter, its relief, the steep Of golden sun in water, glimmer-glass, Long as a white pine trunk and mirrored deep. John Grey is an Australian born poet. Recently published in The Lyric, Vallum and the science fiction anthology, “The Kennedy Curse” with work upcoming in Bryant Literary Magazine, Natural Bridge, Southern California Review and the Oyez Review. Featured Image: “The Lake District Painting” by Alfred de Breanski Buttermere. Related Post ‘Peace’ by Ruth Asch Are the dead at peace in the ground? wrapped in loam, slow dissolving to earth. Is the mother at peace in travail, wracked apart that a c... Tell the world:FacebookTwitterTumblrPinterestRedditLinkedInEmail One Response gabriel June 25, 2014 Like this, good imagery free from banal rhymes and the poem conveys the sounds of the lake – the rush of wings, a distant wind in the trees, shore ripples, grass. Reply Leave a Reply Cancel Reply Your email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Notify me of follow-up comments by email. Notify me of new posts by email.