.

Distant Thunder

Oppressive heat in heavy air;
Oppressive light from summer skies;
White clouds glow with a garish glare,
__Menacing as they rise;

Oppressive stillness reigns: no breeze
Rustles the leafy, drooping boughs,
And only rarely from the trees
__A lazy chirp resounds.

Then through the silence, faint at first,
Yet rolling through the stagnant calm,
The rumble of a thunder-burst
__Sounds from a distant realm—

So distant, yet so ominous—
The roar at which Earth quakes in fear,
The rage of angry gods that draws
__Inexorably near.

Hail, thunder! Welcome, roaring storm!
I greet your wild and roiling violence!
Drive out this crushing tedium,
__Oppressing with its silence!

.

.

To an Elm

Hail to you, fairest, noblest of the trees!
You tower, arms outstretched to wondrous height
In invocation, swaying in the breeze,
Flaunting how gracefully you bear your might.

The oak is mighty, rising to the skies,
With sturdy limbs outstretched like castle beams;
The willow bends with grace although she cries,
With languid boughs cascading down in streams.

But you combine the virtues both possess:
You tower, strong and sturdy like the oak,
But droop down like the willow’s languid tress,
Touching the meadow with a gentle stroke.

Your branches, arcing down with noble grace,
Cathedral-nave of nature, leafy arch
Afford sweet, shady respite from the rays
Of noon that but for you would blind and parch.

In that cool shade the weary wanderer nods,
Sinking into the hidden world of dreams
With you as guide through realms of unknown gods
Past the veil parting what is from what seems.

Guide, too, and sentinel for those who sleep
Boundlessly under rain-streaked marble stones
Against which your boughs brush—caress to keep
A living touch upon their resting bones.

You guard them faithfully, yet we who live
Rejoice no less in the same shade you cast
Upon them: the green monument you give
To them, to us gives shade from daylight’s blast.

We watch the tendrils of the curling vine
Clustered with purple grapes wind round your trunk,
A fitting marriage: fruitful limbs entwine
With strong supporting limbs, roots deeply sunk.

With that fair union’s fruit I toast and raise
Not just my goblet, but my voice in song
To give your majesty, your grace due praise;
It springs from love like you, long-lived and strong.

.

.

Adam Sedia (b. 1984) lives in his native Northwest Indiana and practices law as a civil and appellate litigator. In addition to the Society’s publications, his poems and prose works have appeared in The Chained Muse Review, Indiana Voice Journal, and other literary journals. He is also a composer, and his musical works may be heard on his YouTube channel.

NOTE TO READERS: If you enjoyed this poem or other content, please consider making a donation to the Society of Classical Poets.

The Society of Classical Poets does not endorse any views expressed in individual poems or commentary.


Trending now:

23 Responses

  1. jd

    Loved both poems, Adam. The first is full of lyrical anticipation and the second a prolific witness to your love of nature’s tallest plants.

    Reply
  2. Cynthia Erlandson

    “Distant Thunder” is an exquisite description of this natural event; I could hear it so plainly as I read. The metric pattern of 4-4-4-3 is just perfect for the soundscape you evoke. And I love your slant rhymes. You also paint a beautiful image in “To an Elm”. The castle, cathedral, marriage, and graveyard metaphors and scenery are wonderful. “Past the veil parting what is from what seems” — among many other lines— captures so much truth, so beautifully.

    Reply
    • Adam Sedia

      Thank you! “To an Elm” took me a while to write and finalize, and it is wonderful to see that you appreciate my efforts.

      Reply
  3. Phil S. Rogers

    Enjoyed both poems this morning. Remembering the giant elm trees we had in New England years ago before they were lost to Dutch elm disease. A good
    memory. Thank you.

    Reply
    • Adam Sedia

      I’ve seen old pictures of pre-Dutch elm disease New England, and was struck by how beautiful the elms made the streets. Sadly, that was before my time. Around here American elms are still fairly common (thought not lining the streets). I see them every day and I finally got around to giving voice to my appreciation for them.

      Reply
  4. Paul A. Freeman

    Great imagery in Distant Thunder of oppressiveness being driven out. A political metaphor, perhaps? Either way, I enjoyed it.

    I do have a soft spot for elms. During the 70s, my father did a number of jobs, including felling trees that were victims of Dutch elm disease. As a young boy, I helped as well as I could. I enjoyed the bitter-sweet nostalgia of ‘To an Elm’.

    Thanks for the reads, Adam.

    Reply
    • Adam Sedia

      Elms are still a fairly common sight here, and Indiana has a very special elm. The state’s original 1816 constitution was written in the summer under a giant elm tree in Corydon, which became known as the “Constitution Elm.” The tree died in the 1920’s, but its trunk is still preserved in Corydon and the rest of it was used for furniture in our state capitol building.

      Reply
  5. Joseph S. Salemi

    “Distant Thunder” uses the weather as a metaphor for a common psychological phenomenon — the buildup of tension and paralysis and dissatisfied boredom until there is a cathartic explosion. Such a situation is extremely dangerous, especially if it exists on a trans-personal scale, which is usually the prelude to upheavals, wars, revolutions, and mass destruction.

    There are two ways to look upon the situation described by the poem: to fear the coming explosion, or to welcome it. The speaker here prefers the latter course.

    “To an Elm” reminds me of Andrew Marvell, and his famous description of “a green thought in a green shade.”

    Reply
    • Adam Sedia

      The metaphor came to me as I was writing. I sat down to write based strictly on the inspiration I felt hearing the distant rumbling thunder on a sweltering day last summer while I was doing yardwork.

      I am flattered that you see Marvell in “To an Elm.” I think his work is definitely underappreciated.

      Reply
  6. Cheryl Corey

    Your elm tree poem is very beautiful. The town of Sheffield, Massachusetts once had an elm that was said to be over four hundred years old until it succumbed to disease and had to be cut down in 1926. It towered over all other trees.

    Reply
    • Adam Sedia

      I sense the nostalgia in all my New England commenters. The elms there really must have been something back in the day to make such an impression. Read my comment above about Indiana’s Constitution Elm for another special elm tree.

      Reply
  7. Roy Eugene Peterson

    Having lived on a farm in South Dakota as a youngster, I have felt thunder shaking the house and waking me up many nights. As you spelled out for us, it erased any boredom. It sometimes heralded a tornado. Most of our elms were of the American elm species and were planted in shelter belts in the Midwest. I enjoyed both poems for their rhyme and their love of nature that is evident in your poetry.

    Reply
    • Adam Sedia

      I knew another Midwesterner would recognize exactly the type of storm I’m talking about. The inspiration for my other poem was indeed the American elms still frequently found here. Thank you for your compliments.

      Reply
  8. Margaret Coats

    Love the storm! That’s my attitude toward the phenomenon in nature. There was much storm watching to be done where I was young, and I liked observing all the aspects you mention–especially the distant thunder that could barely be heard at first. From a distant realm, the rage of angry gods draws near: good ways of describing the sound that may be different in each storm. The meter in this poem is nearly regular, even when it comes to “inexorably.” Nice work, Adam, and a good backdrop to the irregular thunder itself.

    “To an Elm,” on the other hand, features many well-handled substitutions. Here I like the gradual discovery of more and more reasons to praise this queen of trees, followed by the surprise realization that the whole poem is a toast to her majesty. Cheers!

    Reply
    • Adam Sedia

      I am quite pleased that you were able to recognize exactly the scene I described. I’ll never forget the moment of inspiration, humble though it was. It was a sweltering July day last summer and I was doing some yardwork, and out of the stillness came that distant rumble, eliciting a feeling of dread in some hidden relict of the primeval man deep within. I had to write a poem on it.

      I have had a love for elms since I was a child, and the subject I felt was long overdue for a poem of praise. I appreciate your attention to the meter, as always.

      Reply
      • Sally Cook

        Dear Adam,

        Thank you for honoring the elm with your words.
        Elms are unusual trees, in that that their proportions inspire thoughts of exaltation.

        I still remember being taken to a window when under two years old and shown an elm tree. It was a ceremonial sort of thing and I had been looking forward to seeing it for days.
        Why? I have no idea, but seeing the beauteous tree seemed to be a valued thing; something to savor. And do you know, it has been.
        I have never forgotten it, and it lives forever in my memory.

  9. Isabella

    I really loved both your poems and I am sure I shall return quite often for another reading of To an Elm.
    The rhythm flows and moves through each stanza effortlessly and I thoroughly enjoyed your vibrant descriptions of the majestic Elm.

    Reply
    • Adam Sedia

      Thank you! It always brings me joy to know that someone else enjoyed my poem.

      Reply
    • Adam Sedia

      Thank you! It was one of those poems that came to me in a flash of inspiration.

      Reply
  11. Shamik Banerjee

    I am so grateful to have read these excellent pieces. The first poem accurately describes the situation in my town that prevailed a week ago—unbearable mugginess and oven-like heat were making life difficult until one evening, from a distance, we heard thunder, and since then, we’ve known relief. Wonderful piece!
    The second piece is rife with images and exudes a classical essence that’s a bit explicable for me. Reading it felt like reading a modern version of an old poem. A true masterpiece. Thank you, Mr. Sedia.

    Reply
    • Adam Sedia

      “A modern version of an old poem” – that is one of the best compliments you can give me. I stand in awe of the old masters of poetry, and any comparison to them is high praise indeed. Thank you!

      Reply

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.