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Bay from Berkeley
Slate blue blustered inland sea
Water from the rivers be
Sea of salt and rain ashore
Many waters, oceans roar.
Slate green gusted inland sea
Berkeley roof, fraternity
Rising sun to light and warm
Morning of a coming storm.
White cap tufted inland sea
Windy fog and rain and lee-
ward shore, now waxing near unseen
Slate of gray, thy slate of clean.
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Poplars
Tones of the wind, and words of the tree,
Stirring and blending, applauding in key,
New-finished leaves, descending in green:
Unblemished sheaves, extended in Spring.
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Democracy, in Bedford Hills
Not so massive, nor too small,
Not so passive, nor the brawl,
Ne’er the crown and rare banal,
Fair a Town, when fair the Hall.
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Song of the Gingko
Pale and golden, one in tone
Gale embolden, spun and blown
Hall and vale and mere and shade
Fall and trail, and beer and glade.
Minted Asian, bright and bold
Transplantation, sight behold
Noble tree, to billions grace
Global prix, to fill thy space.
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prix: prize in French
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Alec Ream is a writer living in Virginia. His poetic work and creative fiction have been widely published. A member of the Demosthenian Literary Society at UGA, he wrote on Lookout Mountain, and continued to write, lecture and work for Delta Kappa Epsilon HQ. He was first published reading to the pledge class of Michigan DKE, in Ann Arbor in 2008. Recently, his poem Green Fire was read at the Washington Literary Society & Debating Union at UVA.
Featured Image: “Berkeley Sunset,” photograph by Joe Parks.
