the measure of summer
weightless--not empty
every thing a miracle
each of us kindred
perhaps I could tell you
about a time mornings
brought frosted grass
and me to my knees
how a rustle in the trees--
in the distance moves
us another week into
stalling and to fall
lit as I am with longings
only waiting cures me
I tell you one thing
let me tell you all
___________________________
Pic: Buzzards (?) overhead as I walked into campus today. They were perched on the Eddy Building and took off as I walked alongside.
8 comments:
Is there a double meaning in the last line of the third stanza? The speaker is moved to stall (put off fall duties) but also into fall itself. And then that word takes on the other meaning of fall.
Nice.
So beautiful. I struggle with the heat, but there is something magical about summer.
There is so much that's poignant and lovely in this poem.
Have you thought of rearranging some of the lines, just as an experiment? I really like the idea of the last two lines becoming lines 6 and 7. What do you think?
Steph--yes.
(I don't dislike fall itself, but it does seem to presage the slide into winter.)
Thanks!
Aw--I'm sorry, Allison. Apparently my skin reacts badly to the sun as well, but I tend to be very fond of summer...
I played with that, Nance, and it works. I brought it back at the end as a refrain again too. This one isn't weighty and can use the extra whimsy.
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