‘Waiting for Dawn atop Butterfly Mountain’ and Other Poetry by Martin Elster The Society March 7, 2014 Beauty, Culture, Poetry 5 Comments Waiting for Dawn atop Butterfly Mountain A dilapidated lepidopteran dying atop The Mountain of Butterflies holds out her wings to the darkness — wings as thin as the mist that swirls beneath monsoonal skies — and pictures the tea farm women, who often glow like painted sawtooths dotting the plantation; and, wallowing in the Mahaweli’s flow, trumpeting in carefree conversation, elephants plashing, washing away all worry. Unlike them, she’s alone here on this rock, a decent rock on which to dream. No hurry to flee the fleeting memories that flock like the birds of Sinharaja: the cunning jackal, the whistling thrush, the fish in every lake (which lure the hungry to come with boats and tackle and float on magic molecules that slake the roots of rice), the din of Devon Falls reverberating through a green expanse where a muntjac barks, a magpie calls and calls, and footsteps crack the chrysalis of her trance — men climbing toward her haven. Soon the sun will oust the night. Slowly she beats her wings, wings like frozen wood as, one by one, they gain the hilltop, quicker as someone sings a hymn to dawn, then darts away as a bell blossoms like an orchid on the height and, rising with the most resounding knell, fades like the constellations at first light. Note: The title alludes to a mountain in south central Sri Lanka, rising to 7,359 feet (2,243 m), which is variously known as Adam’s Peak (the place where Adam first set foot on earth after being cast out of heaven), Sri Pada (Sacred Footprint, left by the Buddha as he headed toward paradise), or perhaps most poetically as Samanalakande (Butterfly Mountain; where butterflies go to die). Some believe the huge “footprint” crowning the peak to be that of St. Thomas, the early apostle of India, or even of Lord Shiva. Great Blue Heron Stock-still, in perfect discipline, beak like a saber, thighs as thin as summer cattail reeds, he’s drawn to faintest flash of scale or fin. He’s mindful of all goings-on, and spots a movement, whereupon he strikes the dinner plate near shore. His neck unbends. The fish is gone. It slipped down whole. And now, once more, he stands en garde, as if at war, bearing his sword, a feathered knight, for other things he’d love to gore. Then off he flies through what will fight whatever aims to reach a height that even eagles seldom win, and he is lost in cumu-light. Skunk Cabbage: The First Flowers of Spring Before the thawing of the snow, before the rills and freshets flow, I’ll generate an urgent heat, draw a breath of swamp mist, greet late winter’s quietude, and grow. My spathe will reek like a long-dead doe, attracting bees and flesh-flies. Oh, I’ll warm their wings and frozen feet before the thaw! While they, with buoyant blitheness, strow my pollen, roots will spread below the mud, brown leaves, and rimy sheet, and cling like fingers in concrete. No petals? Still, I’ll steal the show before the thaw! Martin Elster, author of There’s a Dog in the Heavens!, serves as percussionist for the Hartford Symphony Orchestra and is a composer; his poetry has appeared in numerous literary magazines and anthologies. Featured Image: “Adam’s Peak, Sri Lanka from the bottom” by Bourgeois. Views expressed by individual poets and writers on this website and by commenters do not represent the views of the entire Society. The comments section on regular posts is meant to be a place for civil and fruitful discussion. Pseudonyms are discouraged. The individual poet or writer featured in a post has the ability to remove any or all comments by emailing submissions@ classicalpoets.org with the details and under the subject title “Remove Comment.” Share this:Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)Click to print (Opens in new window)Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window)Click to share on WhatsApp (Opens in new window)Click to email this to a friend (Opens in new window)Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) 5 Responses Ralph La Rosa March 7, 2014 Martin, I especially like the Heron poem! Ralph Reply Ralph La Rosa March 7, 2014 Martin, I especially like the Great Blue Heron poem! Ralph Reply Martin Elster April 5, 2014 Thanks, Ralph! I’m glad you enjoyed it. I love watching great blue herons. Such splendid birds! All the best, Martin Reply Siham Karami March 14, 2014 Lovely! My favorite is Butterfly Mountain. “A delapidated lepidopteran”– won’t forget that one. Nice notes too about the mountain. Reply Martin Elster April 5, 2014 Thanks, Siham! I’m happy you enjoyed that one. It was a fun piece to write and I’m glad it found a home here! All the best, Martin Reply Leave a Reply to Ralph La Rosa Cancel ReplyYour email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Notify me of follow-up comments by email. Notify me of new posts by email. This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.