George Hobson

The Parthenon


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defies the river’s current; so

      I, going after treasures stored

      In time’s alluvium, bring up gems

      Not lost, as feared, but just ignored,

      Being, far from past, the Future’s signs below.

      A Moment by the Sea

      One by one the gray-winged oblongs with lemon beaks

      Lift on updrafts off the bay where wind knocks cliffs,

      Then float, feint left, right, tilt wings, glide downwind,

      Make their flight over privet, clumped pines, brambles,

      While their wood-and-canvas cousins on the water below

      Take the same hefting wind and zigzag seaward.

      Sails like triangular mosaics stud the cobalt,

      Scattered shards and flakes of blue and gold;

      On the ocean’s edge, where sky and water fuse in haze,

      The colored patches blur and disappear.

      The jigsaw bay of marble is a puzzle piece

      Inserted in the worn brown perforated coastal rock.

      The water’s surface under wind’s lash knots and wrinkles

      Like the cracked rock puckering the headlands.

      Waves slap shorelines and scour rock pools;

      They swallow distant outcrops and seethe on reefs;

      Wind shears their wooly fleece.

      Near land algae stain the sea floor green,

      Gulls’ shadows brush the water’s skin,

      Diving cormorants throw up nosegays of spray.

      The garrulous wind cruising in the Norfolk pines

      Murmurs to the sonorous waters the secrets of Creation.

      Waves and trees converse. Sea and earth, bonded,

      Hung by the Creator in the void, rejoice.

      Reflections

      Under the river shines a parallel world.

      People on balconies in the water,

      A voluble audience,

      Stare up at people on balconies above them,

      Actors on a stage;

      Smiling yellow windows in the river

      Wink at their twins smiling down at them;

      Diners on the underwater terrace

      Toast their fellow guests on the terrace above;

      The concave bridge under water nearby

      Welcomes its lover hanging in air—

      Water admiring stone,

      Mind remembering flesh;

      Trees growing upside down in the river

      Dream they’re standing upright on the grassy bank.

      O mellow images, dream on:

      Decorate recollection,

      Summon merriment,

      Echo laughter.

      As night falls,

      Go on gleaming like desire in lovers’ eyes.

      Painted pictures,

      You celebrate conviviality,

      The water of life,

      Without which we should shrivel.

      You bind worlds:

      Lives acted on the stage of years

      And the memory of lives acted on the stage of years.

      Do not cease to quicken our hearts

Part II

      Shells

      Let us give thanks for shells.

      Patterned cabins of calcium

      fashioned into shallow cusps

      or turned as on a potter’s wheel

      into hollowed humps and whorls and spiraled cones—

      O shells, you are shields,

      shelters for soft-fleshed creatures,

      homes of lime for modest mollusks,

      functional, calcareous,

      as strong as castle walls,

      ornate as palaces.

      You are ears that hear the sea,

      sieves that sift the waves,

      caverns where the wash of vast waters

      sounds and echoes.

      You are voices through which ocean speaks,

      ventriloquists through whom breaking combers murmur.

      Your lumpy ellipses are like planetary orbits,

      your whorls like spiral galaxies,

      your parabolas parables.

      On your curved contours mountains gleam;

      aurora borealis shimmers on your surfaces;

      you carry cosmic dust on your rounded backs,

      dark blobs floating on the effulgence of stars.

      Time too dwells in your intimate forms.

      You sleep in the tide pools of faraway summers,

      on the rocks and beaches of forgotten shores.

      Clams tell of children with toy shovels

      running up and down wet sand, squealing;

      whelks summon memories of lonely coves

      strewn with the flotsam of creation,

      and a boy walking thoughtfully

      where the toppled waves rush up the sand hissing

      and form patterns of foam that vanish quickly

      as the spent waves withdraw;

      mussels, massed on rocks like supplicants,

      their twin shells lifted heavenward in prayer,

      evoke the heavy middle passage,

      the untidy, confused, occasionally glorious struggle,

      the sea’s batter, the sea’s gifts,

      the momentous daily rhythm of the tides;

      and snails, stuck on walls or inching ever so slowly,

      call up lazy August afternoons

      in the company of family and friends,

      when camaraderie has given savor to life

      and the sea and salt and sun have drowned

      the sometimes scarcely bearable burden of being.

      In you, shells, as I gaze on you,

      all of reality assembles

      and is concentrated in forms.

      You are tangible objects,

      smooth, rough, prickly, pointed,

      delicious under my fingers,

      present now to me in time, yet timeless.

      You