In the Shadow of Mount Cook Sir Edmund Hillary’s Great-Granddaughter Succumbs to Fever On an evening before winter waves goodbye forever and deserts devour the last screaming of trees, a stray sunbeam sneaks through a tangle of pines, goofs the shatter-angle, wreaks prism from join and summons the blue ice angels to rise. The quiescent chorus sings a unison, a requiem, a whisper, almost, of tiny bells. Frozen wavelets break their own backs and the beach blanket of snow snuggles last fall’s mudded shoe tracks striving some lost summit, where the moon on the glacier howls a memory of wolves. Brent Terry Brent Terry is an award-winning writer and a runner who teaches at Eastern Connecticut State University. He is judging our Lucky 7 Marathon for the poetry entries. He won the Connecticut Poetry Prize and was nominated for the PEN Faulkner Award for fiction. He is the author of The Body Electric, Troubadour Logic, and 21st Century Autoimmune Blues, among others. He is an accomplished Spoken Word artist. He loves Dr. Pepper.
2 Comments
9/5/2022 04:56:02 am
Wonderful poem, Brent Terry. I especially love "where the moon on the glacier howls a memory of wolves."
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BrentTerry
9/5/2022 08:44:56 am
Thank you!
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