Adagio with Drums

close up photography of wet leaves

Pine limbs, oak limbs divvy up

shafts of sunlight as rain sifts

straight-lined, windless.

Grass grows slick. As if ice-cased,

bamboo shimmers in glissando.

Leaves blaze. Each drop that clings

holds the image of what is above,

what is below. Each wells,

is rounded, encompasses the most

just before it tremors, tumbles.

Drumbeats on the broad-leafed ginger

tic quick as stitched trills of steel,

granite, magnesium in a brook’s bend.

Rain drifts in broad, even sheets,

snuggles in, mingles with roots.

My mouth falls open to sing

the silent notes of awe.

Poem by Ed Ruzicka

Ed Ruzicka’s most recent book of poems “My Life in Cars” investigates the rocky marriage of desire to the American highway. Ed’s poems have appeared in the Atlanta Review, Rattle, Canary, the Xavier Review and many other literary publications. Ed has been a finalist for the Dana Award, the New Millennium Award and others. Ed lives with his wife, Renee, in Baton Rouge, LA. More at: