PROSPERO, DEPARTING
“…the isle is full of noises” –The Tempest
His spells dissolved, the air
at last allowed to be
merely air
His staff changed to tree-fern,
cape a carpet of black iguanas
sunning
This island becomes us now:
each cave rehearses its own
rumble
the small volcanoes croon
to one another all night like
owls
Lizard and dove and tortoise,
we were ancient before these
strangers
Caliban was root and mud then,
Ariel a taste of sea-mist,
mere salt
Before she grew tall, Miranda
could track us where we hid,
found
footprint in moss, lichen
scribble on rock, a signal
guessed
She’s gone now into human-kind,
her dreamings lost: the island
sings itself
How I love this l, Gerry. You are a miraculous poet!
Dear Gerry : I really like D Prosperous. Bravo, you Bard, and Happy Spring !
Love, Pat
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How wonderful Gerry. When will I see these all together? ANd when can we talk? MUch love, SOndra