2nd Revision

Early morning,
before the oppressive
heat takes hold,
resting on a hillside,
clouds of translucent
dragonflies hover.

Seen through intricate
cobwebs, spanning two
conifers, a pagoda
stands alone,
red-tiled-roof
contrasting the clear
blue sky, overlooking,
the valley below.

On the horizon,
mountains beyond mountains
dissolve, an indecipherable
procession in the mounting
haze of the rising sun.

Surrounded by forests,
a heron, highlighted
by a somber green canopy,
unhurriedly progresses
toward flooded paddy fields
or the riverbanks whose
pristine waters have emerged
from the highland range.

Cicadas imbue the air
with summer tumult,
swallows career in search
of food.

A lone dog barks
from a distant farmhouse.
I rise to join you
at your mother's grave.



Revised

Early morning,
before the repressive
heat takes hold,
resting on a hillside,
clouds of translucent
dragonflies hover.

Through intricate
cobwebs, spanning two
conifers, a pagoda
stands alone,
red-tiled-roof
contrasting the clear
blue sky, overlooking,
the valley below.

On the horizon,
mountains beyond mountains
dissolve, an indecipherable
procession in the mounting
haze of the rising sun.

Surrounded by forests,
a heron, highlighted
by a somber green canopy,
unhurriedly progresses
toward flooded paddy fields
or the riverbanks whose
pristine waters have emerged
from the highland range.

Cicadas imbue the air
with summer tumult,
swallows career in search
of food.

A lone dog barks
from a distant farmhouse.
I rise to join you
at your mother's grave.





Original

Early morning,
before the repressive
heat takes hold,
resting on a hillside,
a cloud of translucent
dragonflies hover
and dart overhead.

Through an intricate
cobweb, spanning two
conifers, a pagoda
stands on the opposite
hill, red-tiled-roof
contrasting the clear
blue sky, overlooking,
the valley below.

On the horizon,
mountains beyond mountains
dissolve, an indecipherable
procession in the mounting
haze of the rising sun.

Surrounded by forests,
a heron, highlighted
by a somber green canopy,
unhurriedly progresses
toward flooded paddy fields
or the riverbanks whose
pristine waters have emerged
from the highland range.

Cicadas imbue the air
with summer tumult,
swallows career in search
of food.

A lone dog barks
from a distant farmhouse.
I rise to join you
at your mother's grave.

Mango, this is full of beautiful images, peace and tranquility. Other than the small bit of tightening suggested by Syd, I have nothing more than a heartfelt thank you for this lovely piece of writing.
Heart

Hi Andrew,

This is very beautiful and very sad. It almost seems a companion piece to Heartafire's "Almond". I love how you transport the reader to another place---and such a lovely place.

My only suggestions would be to replace "repressive" with "oppressive", in the first stanza, and to add "Seen" before "through" in the second. Great job.

Cory

Andrew,
This was one poem I'd book marked in my minuscule noggin to get back to and read, and I'm so glad I did. This beauty joins the growing group of your best landscape poems ... words, images, rhythm, all seem to unite in a wonderful way. Andrew, I think you've achieved a fine, and beautiful balance with this one. I really can't say enough good about it, only congratulations.
One nit, and one suggestion.
I'm thinking you probably meant "careen" not "career" on S5,L3
Your final stanza that yanks us back to Earth and human activities is by design a bit sudden. I was thinking one more transitional line after line two might help the reader. Maybe something like "A water kettle being filled wakes me."
Really love this poem Andrew.

Rob

Hi Andrew, only just enjoying  my first coffee and I've already learned something new today ... a good vocab lesson. Sorry,  I didn't really think your poem was a dream either, but can see now my response was heavy on that metaphor. No, it came clearly across as a real event being literally and beautifully described by the Narrator. I did just think that some little detail might ground the reader a bit more before those great last two lines. And of course remember ... it's just my brain cells speakin. THis poem is wonderful.

Rob

I have such a beautiful picture in my mind, laced with the sweetest melancholy I think I've ever come across.

Now a few things:

Not sure why red-tiled-roof has dashes all the way between. Why isn't it just red-tiled roof?

On the horizon,
mountains beyond mountains
dissolve, an indecipherable
procession in the mounting
haze of the rising sun.
(A little too much mountains, mountains, mounting for me. I loved mountains beyond mountains, but I think there might be a better word than mounting)

The fourth stanza is almost too much imagery for me. It's quite lovely, don't get me wrong, but it's a bit longer than the other stanzas and I don't think your main idea was the heron.

Again, this is some really great work. I'd like to write a little more like this.