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   . . A poem a day
                                    22 August 1999
.
 

THE BOX


 
Rhythms from drums
ride the night air
more than one drummer
fills the night in
rhythms rush me over
like the waters of the Gila
this afternoon toppling me over
off my inflated black donut
sliding in sideways
shiny and hot from the sun
dunking me sideways
ear first
receiving rocks hard
limbs tangling in rushing currents
finally head cresting water
drinking in air
breathless heart pounding
racing like the river
pounding like the drums
floating on night air
rhythmic cantations celebrate the wildness
now chanting voices
dance table topped mountains
voices scaling spires
that rise out of the river
voices rise like smoke from the shore
caressing canyon walls
the river's song
the human voices
the drummers
caressing canyon walls
that send back the rhythms
forever through time
forever songs from human hands
and lungs that drink air in
and join the river
and the night bird's wings
piercing a darkening sky
flying a high quarter moon
all washes over all
our rhythms become one

- Pamela Patrick

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