ARTISTS<\/p>\n
Dancers<\/p>\n
Long after chalky eggs have drifted
\non a floating mat,
\neven after young have hatched,<\/p>\n
a pair of great-crested grebes,
\nsighting white cheeks
\nand pointed beaks after time apart,<\/p>\n
start to dance. One bird dives
\nand swims toward the other,
\nwho arches her back, fluffing herself<\/p>\n
like a black-winged cat. The diver
\nbursts from water, wings outstretched.
\nThe two plunge under,<\/p>\n
re-emerge with weeds, like roses
\nin beaks, press breasts together,
\ntreading water, and stamp their feet.<\/p>\n
Musician<\/p>\n
Rolling his fibrous, thousand-pound tongue,
\na humpback croons a long, lush song,
\n“Ah, what a whale of a male I am,”<\/p>\n
in a seven-octave voice. Swimming
\nin a sine wave, he slides
\nthrough the sea, a one-man band,<\/p>\n
blending pure and percussive tones
\nin symphonic ratios with rhymed refrains.
\nYou\u2019d think he’d studied Mozart<\/p>\n
and Bach as he leaps on beat, landing
\nwith a hundred-ton splash
\nto belt an encore for the salmon and bass.<\/p>\n
Architect<\/p>\n
The satin bowerbird weaves an avenue
\nof twigs and sticks
\nwith foot-high walls, adorned<\/p>\n
with blossoms, beads and poker chips.
\nHe makes paint of saliva
\nand berries, crushed and mixed,<\/p>\n
daubs it on walls, brushing
\nwith waxy leaves, then takes a flower
\nin his beak, dances down the bower,<\/p>\n
singing, flapping his wings.
\nWhen he wins a mate, the walls
\ncollapse as they violently conjugate.<\/p>\n
Afterward she flies away
\nto make her own place: she\u2019ll raise
\nher young alone in a plain brown nest.<\/p>\n
Painters<\/p>\n
Asian elephants, each with a brush
\nin its trunk, are Abstract Expressionists,
\nfive-ton de Koonings, making<\/p>\n
biomorphic shapes. Do you see
\nthe king cobra under fan-shaped leaves,
\nthe horns of an antelope, bamboo, teaks?<\/p>\n
Colors capture rolling plains,
\nthe Chao Phraya River delta, braided
\ninto channels that flood rice fields<\/p>\n
abuzz with mosquitoes. Layers of paint
\nrecord chaos that finally gives way
\nto the will of the artist, shifting her weight.<\/p>\n
–Lucille Lang Day<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
ARTISTS Dancers Long after chalky eggs have drifted on a floating mat, even after young have hatched, a pair of great-crested grebes, sighting white cheeks and pointed beaks after time apart, start to dance. One bird dives and swims toward … Continue reading