Jeffrey Hull

© 2004 http://www.mikesjournal.com/ by permission


Long echelons of laughing wings
   Ride north on southern air;
The heralds of ten thousand springs,
   Gay bugles honk and blare.

From high above the morning frost
   Formations bank and wheel
To settle from the skies they've crossed
   And grab a traveler's meal;

Then fluffing up their feathered cloaks
   They once again set forth
In harness with their airy yokes
   To haul the springtime north.


© 2006 Jeffrey Hull

A nice condensation, of course, and I understand your points. But then, the poem loses any sense of development, and becomes almost too short for the pleasures of reading and recitation. The "long" is a metrical requirement for the scansion of the line.

And then, it would be your poem, not mine.

I just love this poem! Thank you.

Thank you. It was inspired by events; several weeks ago the first formations of geese flew over the house in a low-level, noisy run northward. I reflected at the time that the animals know we have a mild winter and early spring - better than the weatherman, I say. I try to have a heightened awareness for what goes on in nature and the world around us in general to serve as the source for inspiration. Several of the metaphors were chosen specifically for their "Dickinsonian" flavor, most specifically "feathered cloaks." It is exactly what one would expect in a Dickinson poem. Emulation is, after all, the sincerest form of flattery.

It is clear to me that you are serious about your poerty. I have read five or six selections and they are very good. In fact, I can easily say, yours is the best poetry that I have yet clicked onto. I shall return!