I am in a comfortable space on Heidi Mordhorst’s front porch for our long awaited Inklings retreat. We’ve been meeting on Zoom as a writing group for around 10 years and this is the first time we’ve been together in person. Heidi’s front porch welcomes the morning sun and is a perfect place to sit with coffee and type a PF post.
I don’t always participate in the Poetry Sisters’ challenge; however, this month’s prompt is a favorite of mine, Pádraig Ó Tuama’s Pantoum.
July Sings, Sizzles
Cicada song sizzles with rising heat.
My neck sweats, wet like a glass of iced tea.
I feel my body slowing down.
Even the birds stop singing by ten.
My neck’s wet like a glass sweats.
Shade just an illusion of cool.
Even the birds stop singing by ten.
Yet, today I release another butterfly.
Shade, an illusion of cool, waits
for grief like the great blue heron he drew.
So today I release another butterfly.
I had a dream he returned like the sun.
Grief is the great blue heron he watched.
I feel my own body slowing down.
I had a dream he returned as my son.
Cicada song rising with the heat.
Reflections on the Teche 
“Grief is the great blue heron he watched.” A lovely line, as is your father’s illustration. Hugs to you (and the rest of the Inklings). xo
“Shade just an illusion of cool.” I love that–and I love the grief woven throughout this lovely pantoum. xo
Oh, wow, Margaret. There are so many rich images–the sweltering heat captured with rich sensory details, the drawing of the heron by your father, the grief, the dreams. This is gorgeous. Enjoy your Inklings retreat!
I’m so glad you joined in, this is lovely.
One thing I love about pantoums is their ability to hold two points in tension and make them waltz. Grief weaves itself into the fabric of this poem as well as beauty; the slow slide of sweat glides through the illusion of shade, even as the bruised heart bears up under the wings of the heron and the butterfly. The attention in this form allows sadness to exist un-softened yet still tempered by beauty.
Your comment is a poem. Thanks!
The repetition adds to the humid weight of the moments you’ve captured, Margaret. I love how neck sweat became neck’s wet and glass sweat! Your tiny tweaks add a spark of life to the surrender that comes with the heat.
You’ve written a beautiful poem Margaret, it is meloncholy and your words create images in my mind. I especially love these words:
Shade just an illusion of cool.
Even the birds stop singing by ten
I hope you have a lovely retreat with the inklings.