Two Poems by Doug Tanoury

by Doug Tanoury

Hudson River Day Line

I would walk to the river in the morning

To watch the sunrise

In the early days after I left her

For no reason other than — I Could!

And every personal choice I made

Conferred some dignity on me.

The sunlight on the blue water paved

A golden path to each new day,

And I listened to the soft respiration

Of the river, the sleepy, quiet sounds

On a summer morning

That I alone heard.

The Redness of the Morning Light

It was an ocherous sunrise, Sylvia Plath might say,

But I will simply state it was Pompeian red, for word choices

Are like pigments in artist’s colors, earthy blends

That approximate the tone and texture of light.

Now, back to the vermilion sun that rose that morning,

I drank a cup of coffee and listened to an oboe concerto

In D minor by Telemann, something mellifluous

Or should I just say sugary, slow and softly sweet?

The sun that morning was Venetian red on the palette

Of the sky, or the color of a cosmetic counter’s poppy red

Lip gloss, and I remember I made a list of all the things

To do that day; reglazing a window and painting the fence.

In the cinnabar sunlight, I realized all the household chores

Keep you grounded, and tie you tightly to most of humanity,

Common things, like weeding the front flower garden and

Pausing a moment to study the redness of the morning light.