The Summons

The Summons
A poem by Joseph J. Pote
July 2016

It’s a normal evening at home;
Bright lights, air conditioning,
Television blaring, family busy
With chores and bedtime preparation.

I step outside for a moment.
Closing the front door, I breathe
The peace and calm of a mild summer
Evening in south Arkansas.

Looking around the moonlit lawn,
I feel the first tug.
The moonlight beckons;
The shadow world calls.

From ‘neath the front porch
Shelter, I venture forth.
Through the shade of slender pines,
Breathing their aromatic scent.

Onward to the open moonlight
Gazing full on her shining face,
Drinking in the mystery
Of a shrouded world filled with light.

Yet the summons bids me onward
Toward the pasture gate.
Hesitantly, I lift the latch,
Wondering how long I’ll tarry.

Stepping through the gate,
I gaze in wondrous awe,
Not on our familiar pasture,
But an enchanted magic land.

Though scent of damp earth
And dewy grass combines
With distant cicada song
To anchor heart to ordinary world,

All else tis transformed
To moonlit fairyland
Glistening and shimmering
‘Neath light of lustrous moon.

Where our stagnant pond should lay,
A mirrored lake reflects moonlight;
O’er which a giant sentinel watches
Where our sweet-gum should stand.

Boots swish through damp grass
As my quest leads ever onward
Down hill and up levy to feet of
Giant sentinel who calls.

Yes, calls…though silently.
Not a word he speaks.
No wisdom imparted here,
Just beauty and outstretched arm

Pointing onward into the depths
Of lunar wonderland,
Where shrouded gnomes silently watch
My passage ‘cross wandering stream.

Emerging on the distant bank,
Four mythical creatures of legend
Stride solemnly toward me
On hooves of silent sureness;

Regal their bearing, yet warm,
The creatures draw near to
Counsel with me there, ‘neath
Wondrous moon in enchanted land.

We speak of many things both
Great and small; not in clumsy
Tongues of men, but in fluid equestrian
Language of touch, motion and breath.

I was honored by their counsel
And they by my visit to their world.
We talked ‘til time to take my leave,
Then stood a moment, silent.

What magic moonlight’s wrought to
Transform mundane pasture into wonderland
And ordinary horses into mythical creatures
Of legendary wisdom and majesty!

Back in my everyday world again,
A part of me remains behind…
And part of that magic moonlit night
Remains in me.

10 thoughts on “The Summons

  1. Beautiful, Joey! Bill says, “That brother of yours. Engineering is just a vocation for him; his real love is writing.” Hugs from me!

    • Yes, I do enjoy writing!

      Although I’m not sure I’m very good at it, there is something very alluring about the struggle to adequately express a moment or a concept. And, somehow, putting thoughts in writing makes them more clear to me…more organized and coherent.

      Love you, Susanna!
      joe recently posted…The SummonsMy Profile

    • Oh, good! That makes you the perfect reader of my poetry, Lisa.

      You were able to identify with the moment described, and see it with me…which is the purpose of poetry. Yet, your not such a poetry purist as to be overly critical of all the rules I broke.

      Thank you, so much!
      joe recently posted…The SummonsMy Profile

    • That’s exactly how I felt while experiencing it, Andrew! I knew I couldn’t stay, but I really didn’t want it to end.

      Love the word-play on my last name!

      Thank you, Andrew!
      joe recently posted…The SummonsMy Profile

    • Thank you, Deborah!

      I don’t consider myself very skilled as a poet…but some experiences seem best expressed in verse.

      This was one of those experiences. 🙂

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