A Tribute

Mostly to Robert W. Service, through whose verses I have caught a glimpse of the raw, wild beauty that surrounded him.

My heart beats a rhythm,
A rhythm of the seas,
The pulse of the setting sun
Goldening the trees.
Beat of the mountains,
Straining to the sky,
Drum roll of thunder
Blustering by.
My heart beats a cadence 
All out of time
With things that we silly folk
Call verse and rhyme.
Catching the elf tunes
Pulsing in the wind,
Dance in the wilderness -
She is my friend. 
My heart feels her pulses
And leaps in reply,
Chasing the white clouds
Through a blue sky.
Waves with the grasses,
Sings with the breeze,
Ancient as the mountains,
Boundless as the seas...

...I sit in my town house
With a cup of tea,
My mind for a spyglass,
My book for a key,
To unlock my fancies
And stray for a time...
Lost in the world
Of a great poet's rhyme.


  1. Fantastic, Janie. The meter is pulsingly appropriate.

  2. Wait! Do I mean it's appropriately pulsing?

    1. Well, either one is appropriate. Thanks!


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