18 May 2014

gold

when it's Sunday
and late afternoon
and you're in Cedarvale ravine,
there is golden light,
and light-brown branches branching and buds everywhere,
you can see the buds, budding,
my gold-friend, fiend

and golden, or wheat-coloured,
reed-like, dry rushes,
you don't know what they are, but they're everywhere rushing,
wheaten sheaves, sheaves of wheat shimmering,
shim-shimmying,
which is strange and unlikely and you don't know what they are

Come-coming spring-alive,
mud underfoot,
spring mud, a good as, gold thing.

It's a forty-minute walk you take: twenty minutes in, twenty minutes out, a golden mean
and a hill-rise toward the end
slightly breathless,
there

----

Dawn Promislow
Dawn Promislow was born and raised in Johannesburg, Gauteng, in South Africa. She left the continent with her family in 1977 and lived in London, England, before returning to study English and French literature at the University of Cape Town. Dawn has lived in Toronto since 1987, where she works as a magazine journalist. Jewels and Other Stories is her first collection. In March 2014 she was the Featured Voice at Canopic Jar with two stories, "Gleaming Like Light" and "Path." For more information, please contact the publisher.

1 comment:

Helen McKinlay said...

It's full of light this poem the golds and browns the movement approaching spring the way the words show this buddung shimmying rushing. I'm puzzled about the word fiend in this however?