Darkly, by DB Jonas

Darkly

In a light of Albert Pinkham Ryder
 
As dawn breaks hard along the ashen ridge,
as mare’s-tails sweep across the scarlet swells, 
we seem to hear behind the rumbling hills 
our granite mountains on the move again.
 
We sense an anxious weather massing in the West,
the restless herds are darkly gathered there.
A hastening sky, already nearly here, has set 
its chorused ravens ranting through the dusky air.
 
On this high place the ancient house holds fast
against the tossing slap, these troubling sounds,
as we, like wary sailors in a freshening breeze,
lash tight to buck the heaving desert ground.
 
As if to ride before this rising spray of mankind’s making,
we’ll run to port before our makeshift craft starts leaking.

DB Jonas

DB Jonas is an orchardist living in the mountains of New Mexico. His work has appeared in Tar River, Neologism, Water Wheel, The Ekphrastic Review, The Decadent Review and over 30 other journals.  His first collection, Tarantula Season, is scheduled for release later this year.