The ferns pushing up their fiddle heads

in the window box are not the delicate

things conjured as mouse-sized violins

for a fairy hoe-down with sprightly reels

bowed on gossamer strings,


rather these are colossal, dark and hairy,

Late Cretaceous holdouts unfurling scrolls

of primordial bass viols that drone a C so

low only creatures house-crushingly huge

might tap their massive toes.


The panes through which I stare tremble at

the sound or maybe its just me that shakes;

either way I’m certain that while the music

of nature deserves attention, seeing who

else is listening does not.


©Dana Hughes 3.13.17


One thought on “Ferns

  1. I love this one, too. And I think the “low C” is particularly powerful for me. I love that sense of deep vibration, far below the audible spectrum, that reminds me that creation is moving whether I can hear it or not.

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