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Jambalaya and the Grandfather Clock

by Glenn Currier

The rhythm of our conversation
slow and easy as we dip
deeply into the chambers
of our hearts
is joined as if on some cosmic cue
by the deeps throated avowal
of the grandfather clock.

Between gongs time stops.
I am on a peaceful planet
the laws of physics suspend.
Space bends between breaths
in these emerald moments
fertile with quiet attention.
Something sacred is happening here.

Strands of connective tissue
like the brown bayous,
narrow roads and roots
of Evangeline Oak and water lilies
stretch across generations
into our accented words
and mist in our eyes.

It is good to be here
taking in the crazy simmering kettle
of jambalaya
called family.

07/29/2011

Posted on 07/29/2011
Copyright © 2025 Glenn Currier

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 07/30/11 at 02:56 PM

I love the idea of time stopping between gongs. I like it all, but especially S3.

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