Before the long last breath, on planes
bound far to south, at height of cranes,
and higher still, our oared bird flew.
To my core all sundry selves drew
in hope of flying whole, no strain
greater than ancestors' refrain:
"bring us back to earth" - in great pain:
the roiling clouds, cumulus brew,
before the long last breath.
The sky opens. Sudden and plain:
a blue coherent height. We gained
ancients on wing, steadfast, and grew
to thousands, passengers and crew.
Ghostly, winged, by window framed,
before the long last breath.
Scooter Cascadia
Near Hallowmas 42010
Daniel and I just had a marathon of writing rondeau and rondeau-double. This poem was the first result for me. The toughest thing I found was having to make each line have the same syllables, more constraining to me than the rhyme schemes, which themselves were a challenge. Thanks Daniel for digging up this form, a poetic sudoku to keep my wordbrain limber!
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