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Show Life as an Adolescent 49 MORNING Ah, it's nice riding out in the morning, With the wind singing songs in your ears, And the sky arching blue And a -calling to you- Ah, it's nice riding out in the morning! When she watched the trembling leaves of the quaking aspen responding to the slightest breeze, their movement sug gested the breath of a ghost sending messages through the shim trees menng: QUAKING ASP If I were a poor pallid spook Who must needs choose an earthly abode, I would seek a tall white quaking asp By a winding mountain road. I would haunt its quivering leaves, Kissed by breeze-loves passing by; In its slender limbs I would stretch white arms To a soft, caressing sky. Then as evening brings the languid moon, In a cloudy, silver sheaf, I would stand a shimmering sentinel, In tremulous white relief. And pulsing, half-choked messages, From the whir of passing wings, Faltering, swelling, my voice would lisp In chilly whisperings. This excellent poem illustrates her skill at making sounds that imitate meaning. The many "1" and "s" sounds seem to be the whispering voice of the aspen tree and its ghostly haunt. The cadence also suggests the pleasure she found in the flow of words as well as the feeling. One can almost imagine the poem set to music. Other Ranch sentiments filled her verses. In "Dusk" she hears |
