Sean Eaton
All This Music
They say that flowers are also songs, and the sun, and the ocean-blue sky on clear bright days. The chipmunk is a song, and the squirrel, and so the hare. The fox, also, and the bear, and the wolf with his long speckled fur. The wolf's piercing amber eyes are songs when the slick rabbit falls into his sight, and the rabbit's thumping gallop through the underbrush as he hurries toward life is also a song. Cucumbers and tomatoes are songs, and pineapples and raspberries, and the moon is a song as it hangs high in the sky, over forest or ocean. The mountains of my homeland are songs, and the pines which speckle them, and the firs, and the maples, and the silvery birches, and the sheer countless birds which roost in them. Not only their calls, but they them- selves are songs as well, in how they soar, and dip, and hop; in their countless-splendored plumages. The waterfalls in my mountains are songs, and the dinosaurs' footsteps baked into the slanted rockface are songs, and my life is also a song, albeit a sad one of many notes. I must remember that my life also has worth, because I sing in it. Life is far, far too long to spend entirely in lamentations. |
Sean Eaton is a poet and artist hailing from the hills of New England. His favorite writers are Amy Clampitt and Ruth Stone. He is an emerging poet with work appearing in Arboreal Magazine.