Opus Effloresco (River Sermon)\r\n\r\n\r\nCome Down To The River\r\n\r\nSince original sin got all chopped up,\r\nShe is risen indeed.\r\n\r\nLuna moth came with her big purple eye\r\nJust when I believed her extinct.\r\n\r\nCome down to the river, you wouldn\'t believe,\r\nThe orchestral burgeoning baritone and tenor.\r\n\r\nMethuselah\'s rings tell of pyramids and crucifixions.\r\nClimaxed pine, wind\'s evergreen lover,\r\nBroken, raped and amber bled,\r\nFEMA marked and tagged,\r\nRemembers her kingdom --\r\n\"plantae pinophyta pinopsida pinales pinaceae pinus...\"\r\n\r\nCome down to the river.\r\nWhere the yellow-crosses sprout\r\nBundles of needles crowning gold.\r\nRisen indeed.\r\n\r\nBeethoven is better off deaf to hear\r\nThe choir alleluia trees from all\r\nFaiths gathered.\r\n\r\nNo number of human pipes could spell this out.\r\nBuzzed, flip-flopping sunfish, river turtle flaps against the current,\r\nHeron, grey and white, shuffle the air like a Blue Angel trumpeting.\r\n\r\nA reunion of sparrow chatter it up.\r\nHummingbird wets his whistle\r\nOn the volunteer honey\r\nSuckling the explosion of vine.\r\n\r\nRopes of jungle wood hang,\r\nUnravel like busy backstage hands,\r\nThe show is truly going on.\r\n\r\nLeaves curly cue around Magnolia,\r\nThen gravies over wild privet.\r\nFlora volunteer en masse,\r\nGardenia bushes nurse in thick bamboo\'s shade.\r\n\r\nCome down to the river, I tell ya.\r\nChucklin\', the sun just peeks through, smilin\' like -\r\n\"told you so...\"\r\nWhat? You drop into the ocean so peaceful like sayin\'\r\nThat\'s how we shoulda done it?\r\nAnd he just keeps rollin\'. Be back tomorrow, like regular.\r\nSlow poke.\r\n\r\nIn three days, 553 magnolias are gonna crack open in the night\r\nLike a baby crownin\'.\r\nStretch her white wings like the goddess Herself,\r\nSayin\' this is how a woman opens. Get it?\r\n\r\nCome down to the river now,\r\nThe lightning bugs improvise.\r\nNever had so many places to hide\r\nAnd seek.\r\n\r\nGrandpa cypress - he\'s seen it all-\r\nWell, he shows his knees comin\' down the stream,\r\nLike countin\' grandchildren\r\nAfter the storm.\r\nOf course they didn\'t drown.\r\nSmart asses.\r\n\r\nJesus Christ!\r\nNature knows.\r\nWhat else.\r\n\r\nPhotosynthesis as generous as Bacchus on 12th night.\r\nEvery note of green scrambling down to the river.\r\n\r\nHell.\r\n\r\nEven Willow tree\'s got the scoop.\r\nBending her hair, dropping her tears to the creek -\r\nThe buck stops here.\r\nShe\'s learned not to depend on the kindness of strangers.\r\nThat\'s something her mama did.\r\n\r\nAnd there it is.\r\nFolks sit back.\r\nA New World.\r\n\r\nI\'m stuttering.\r\nA cacophony choir of survivors,\r\nRingin\' home the babies,\r\nFrom anywhere.\r\nSo loud you wanna cuss,\r\nHoly Mother!\r\n\r\n\'Cuz after Katrina dragged through\r\nSluggin\' up every rooted dirty mouth\r\nShe could grab -\r\nDoesn\'t matter what we say now.\r\nOur mouths are clean.\r\n\r\nHalleluiah! The ancient oaks arms are swingin\'.\r\n\r\nHalleluiah down to the river.\r\n\r\nThere\'s a sermon going on\r\nYou\'ve never heard before.\r\n\r\n\r\nApril 28, 2007\r\nMiriam (Mimi) Gauthier\r\n