Rose of Sharon

ROSE OF SHARON

We have both
been travelers,
on separate paths,
and now we have returned
to this northern clime,
this place of fog and fire.

We managed to slip
past each other
for years,
like frenzied bass fishermen
on a dark lake.

But I had a solid glimpse of you
recently,
and your wide brown eyes
reawakened in me
that which was dormant,
buried deep.

There you were,
nestled down in Victorian wood,
surrounded by your own intricate designs,
and with the pale rays
of the very next dawn
I realized
that I needed to bathe
in the heat of your
tumultuous tenacity.

Why is it
that nobody seems to grasp
the notion that you
are a bright yellow flower,
whose biblical blossoms
dot the deserts of Israel;
or that you could have beenTom Joad's sister,
or that I saw the John Ford film
long before I read
Steinbeck's book,
and still I understood it,
and wept;
or that once
when I was an actor,
I sat for several wonderful hours
in a small room
with the ailing Henry Fonda,
talking about movies and life
and yellow flowers,
like the flaxen of your hair,
cropped close to your pale neck
in the style of those French actresses.

Are the rainbows still as brilliant
for you,
as when Hendrix, Joplin, and Morrison
steered the ship ?

In the south
I chased those delicious colors,
quivvering,
until my soul seemed to throb
in my cramped fingers,
and I found mysef
reaching into thin air.

Today
I inquire softly
and I whisper,
" How much further now ?".
" How much longer ?".

Christ,
woman,
my feet need
to touch the ground.


Glenn Buttkus 1970