THREE POEMS FOR MY WEE LASS, A SOUL SURFER

MY POEMS TODAY. MY WEE LASS PRETENDING TO BE A SURFER UNDERNEATH A NEWLY-SPRUNG CHERRY TREE.


THREE POEMS FOR MY WEE LASS

(For Marie Clementine)

 1. Sundance at Sauble

Do you hear that rhythmic titter
from the ebbtide, my wee lass?
Sundown waves mimic whistles,
hisses or calls of “encore”:
an unbridled adoration, if you ask,
but I might just be bantering
about old enchanted mortals
who have long asked whence,
when, how, why, or what haven,
have you come from to shower
this grace on our little lives?

 2. A Beau Geste

Dance, wee lass of all hearts.
It is still the loveliest beau geste
to this sun and sea and stars
that have claimed you their
own sweet child, their bright
pulsing star, their dancing girl,
their balm for all the ills visited
upon the Earth, O, our fiery star
on darkest eventides, wee lass,
to last us all until the sad end
of all that is beautiful and wild!

3. Surfing a Wave of Flowers

Pretend like that surfer then, lass,
roiling through the green meadow
cuddling these bloomed cherries,
blossoms of pink waves sweeping,
rushing through waves of flowers
until they pull you into an eventide
where all I could see is your face
bobbing out of the eddied water,
showering us with gentle grace.
Surf, lass, dance into my old heart.


---ALBERT B. CASUGA
May 5-6, 2015 Mississauga