Another year gone, leaving everywhere
its rich spiced residues; vines, leaves,
the uneaten fruits crumbling damply
in the shadows, unmattering back
from the particular island
of this summer, this NOW, that is nowhere
except underfoot, moldering
in that black subterranean castle
of unobservable mysteries - roots and sealed seeds
and the wanderings of water. This
I try to remember when time's measure
painfully chafes, for instance when autumn
flares out at the last, boisterous and like us longing
to stay - how everything lives, shifting
from one bright vision to another, forever
in these momentary pastures.
Mary Oliver Fall
6 comments:
What a lovely evocative poem of the way Autumn feels at the end of the leaf fall, all bright and damp, beginning and ending all at once.
Thank you for bringing this to the ABC Wednesday table!
Another year gone indeed Hildred, and don't they pass quickly as one gets older?
" .... And like us longing to stay .. "
Is this not a perfect example of what you cannot fully understand until you reach a certain stage in life?
" .... And like us longing to stay .. "
Is this not a perfect example of what you cannot fully understand until you reach a certain stage in life?
Beautiful, and pensive. Autumn is my favorite season.
Mary Oliver has a newly published
book of poems, "Dog Songs." Even
though you're a cat person, I'm
sure you'd enjoy it.
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