On White Wings

Driving into the office at 04:15am this morning, the northeastern skies began to lighten up already, and those first tentative reddish rays of day began to stain the horizon and tinge the few clouds still hanging puffy and low. The shiny hood on my cherry-red Isuzu pick up caught a bit of the light as I moved from lane to lane dodging the 18 wheelers, lit up like holiday porches, flying high in the crisp air; arrogant behemoths, garrulous giants rolling tall, pounding pavement with their fat radials. So now from my office window, American Lake is turning to gold, and Mt. Rainier is running raspberry bisque over its fat glaciers. I hear an eaglet scream and a gull's reply, as snow geese fly past the slit below the gray steel of my sill; even turning the rust on my window screen into something cheery.

On White Wings

Ride the white mare
through the dusky doorways of dawn,
to greet the smiling fireball.

Glenn Buttkus

And while I am at it, why not take the prose above, and let it appear as it was created, poetic.

Friday's Song

Driving
into the office
at 04:30am
this morning,
the northeastern skies
began to lighten up
already,
and those first
tentative reddish rays
of day
began to stain
the horizon,
and tinge
the few clouds,
still hanging
puffy and low.

The shiny hood
on my cherry-red
Isuzu pick up
caught a bit
of the light
as I moved
from lane to lane
dodging
the 18 wheelers--
those garulous giants,
those arrogant behemoths
lit up
like holiday porches;
flying high
and rolling tall
in the crisp air--
pounding pavement
with their fat radials;
beating out
a jazz bass
and a blues riff
as I streamed past
fastly.

So now
from my office window
I can witness breathlessly
American Lake turning
to gold,
and Mt. Rainier busily
pouring raspberry bisque
over its fat glaciers.

I can hear
an eaglet scream
and a gull's reply,
as snow geese fly
past the slit
below the gray steel
of my sill;
and the sun
leaps high,
even burnishing the rust
on my window screen
into lopsided
smiles.

Glenn Buttkus May 2008