Creek Song

 

 

Creek Song

 

Sleep this night evades me,

And summer’s air is thick with promise.

I hear, in the echo of the night, a pulse that

Has resounded on countless twilights before.

 

Casting aside the notion of slippers,

I allow my hair to cascade in its tangled freedom,

And bind only the hem of my delicate gown,

Lest I entwine my bare feet in its diaphanous length.

 

Neither candle nor lantern I procure before

Leaving the cabin and my better judgment behind.

The rhythm grows with intensity,

Almost moving the earth beneath my bare feet,

And driving my steps with primal instinct

Towards something unnameable but acutely necessary.

 

The gentle melody of the creek unites with

The beating of my heart in accompaniment to this

Ancient calling, and the fireflies dart about me,

Abetting the hypnotic state of my odyssey through the meadow.

 

And, upon my arrival to the fork in the stream,

The world comes to an absolute standstill.

Entranced, I wonder why I have waited overlong

To answer the call of the Creek Song.

 

Somewhere between warrior and and enchanter,

Sporting naught but a wary smile and his breechcloth,

He caresses the surface of the water, causing the

Droplets to assault my fevered skin.

 

And thus our narrative begins in earnest.

 

Tina Jordan

 

Tina Jordan lives in NW North Carolina, in the heart of the Blue Ridge Mountains. The author of three self-published collections of poetry and prose, she has recently been featured in Pomme Journal and The Stray Branch. She draws inspiration from both dreams and reality, and her writing is typically touched with a hint of dark romance.  An administrative assistant by day, she spends her free time enjoying the great outdoors, writing, and spending time with her children and grandchildren.