Polyhymnia, Just This Week

Polyhymnia, Just This Week

by Roslynn Pryor

Many praises, many hymns,
sacred poems, songs divine.

She sings 

of hills in golden velvet carpet folds,
light trees changing clothes aside the road,
yellows in season now, not greens, 
against a cloudfade bluing sky.

She gives me

oil horses in the grapevine fields,
Christmas tunes early but loved,
songs both Christian and non-temple-bound.

She composes

moving lines of music,
descant or low-harmony glee,
        as the butterfly or bee bounces and flits
between steady, predictable lines of 
        fencepost and roadway and tree.

She shows me

roadside egrets in the channel drain,
tumbleweeds growing in four different hues,
haybale truck open since we know it will not rain.

Moving parallels of

endless cargo trains
			unbroken strands of power lines

		 highway stripe   stripe
  stripe    stripe   stripe    stripe   stripe

She plays for me

he said, she said,
nuh-uh, yeah,
protests and howls,
wry laughs, tear-filled praise,
a broken hallelu- and light-filled cracks

All hymns,
hymns all.

Sing in us, Muse,
and through us frame the refrain,
paint the pain, treat our stain,
capture the beauty of rain,
sound the vein and reveal the chain,
and sing through us again,

Everything may be sacred.
       Eyes, see.
       Mouths, sing.


Roslynn is a veteran high school English teacher, lit-jock, poet, occasional blogger at Pushing the Bruise, and aspiring novelist who resides in California with her animal menagerie.

Image Credit:  “Polimnia,” by José Luis Muñoz Luque (http://www.jlmunoz.com/)


3 thoughts on “Polyhymnia, Just This Week

  1. Kirk Manton says:

    Ros, you filled my morning bright with musings, such delight.
    Reminding me again, to look everywhere for His refrain.

    Write on sister….

    Your So. Cal. Cuz and Brother-friend,

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