"Wanderer in a Storm" by Leypold‘Rondeau’ and Other Poetry by Rita Moe The Society July 29, 2021 Beauty, Humor, Poetry, Rondeau 4 Comments . Rondeau The rondeau echoes its refrain in a subtle way, just as rain at times will fall, not in torrents, but in a fine mist, the wood fence, weathered gray, resisting the stain of water. So, the reader’s brain, lulled, may not at first sustain the expectation and suspense __the rondeau echoes. But, as drizzle will soak the lane, darken the fence, and bend the grain, so the rondeau, with persistence, proves itself, though gentle, intense. Across cultivated terrain __the rondeau echoes. . . Thriller The world teeters daily on the brinkof disaster: mole-men burrow beneaththe White House, suicide bombers slinktoward the Hague, thousands squirm in the teethof giant mutant rats. The clock ticks. Music swells. In the dark we savor the dire—its salty taste, the mesmerizing flicks—while humanity walks the high wire. We know that in the eleventh hour will yetappear the Man of Steel, the FBI,the brilliant, gorgeous woman of scienceto save the world. And then the true suspense: the lights come up; we step, with blinded eyes,into our own lives without a net. . . Lament from the Ash Grove Not ever the cordons of elms did we envyTheir militant presence along city streets.We cherished the streamlets, the bluebells, the valleysWhere played little children, where lovers would meet. How sudden the spread of the deadly contagion,The felling of elms, and their vacated posts; And called up to duty as if by conscriptionWere we, the fair ashes, as sentries and host. Our branches, so graceful, now rustle in sorrow. The past never ceases; again it upsprings,For now, few are stricken—far more on the morrow— By death that comes stealing on emerald wings. How often we listened to sweet voices singing,How often was lauded our broad leafy dome. Now sadly these voices dark sorrow are bringing.No more save in song will the ash grove be home. . . Rita Moe’s poetry has appeared in Water~Stone, Poet Lore, Slipstream and other literary journals. She is the author of two poetry chapbooks, Sins & Disciplines and Findley Place; A Street, a Ballpark, a Neighborhood. Now retired from an investment firm in Minneapolis, she lives in Roseville, MN. NOTE: The Society considers this page, where your poetry resides, to be your residence as well, where you may invite family, friends, and others to visit. Feel free to treat this page as your home and remove anyone here who disrespects you. Simply send an email to email@example.com. Put “Remove Comment” in the subject line and list which comments you would like removed. The Society does not endorse any views expressed in individual poems or comments and reserves the right to remove any comments to maintain the decorum of this website and the integrity of the Society. Please see our Comments Policy here. 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) 4 Responses Paul Freeman July 30, 2021 Wow! Three amazingly different poems. I enjoyed the rondeau with its extended metaphor, but particularly enjoyed ‘Thriller’ with its final couplet reveal (just like a ‘thriller’!). ‘Lament from the Ash Grove’ brought back bitter-sweet memories. During the time of Dutch Elm Disease, my father was self employed and I used to help him felling trees infected with the fungus. Thanks for some intriguing reads, Rita. Reply Rita Moe August 1, 2021 Thanks, Paul. Losing our boulevard elms in Minneapolis in the 1970s and 80s was really sad. We were the “City of Elms” (along with many other US cities). Ash seemed like a good replacement – and now they, too, are under attack. Reply jd July 31, 2021 I enjoyed all three also, especially the surprise and excellent ending of “Thriller”. Thank you! Reply C.B. Anderson August 1, 2021 The rhymes in the rondeau seemed inevitable, so well they were attuned to the progress of the narrative. I’ve heard about the plight of ash trees in the north. My friend in Maine is anxious about the towering specimens growing on his property. A nice idea for a poem, and nicely executed Reply Leave a Reply 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.