Countryside Composition
The russet sun selects the pheasant’s tail.
It shines more gold than copper in that light
From heaven in the evening though more pale.
The sun strikes more than that. It wants to write
A poem or a nocturne for the dark
To come, combining them. A lieder forms
For singing made of colors, blackest stark
And shining metals. Striking color swarms
Around the pheasant’s back, the wings, and breast,
An aria of hues Bellini would
Adore, performance from the twilight west.
The pheasant wears a sun-worked emerald hood.
The moon will tread upon the feathers next.
The song will be with silver mordents flexed.
~ Phillip Whidden