Tuesday, July 29, 2008

End of Summer Poem


Poor summer, it doesn't know it's dying.
A few days are all it has. Still, the lake
is with me, its strokes of blue-violet
and the fiery sun replacing loneliness.
I feel like an animal that has found a place.
This is my burrow, my nest, my attempt
to say, I exist. A rose can't shut itself
and be a bud again. It's a malady,
wanting it. On the shore, the moon sprinkles
light over everything, like a campfire,
and in the green-black night, the tall pines
hold their arms out as God held His arms
out to say that He was lonely and that
He was making Himself a man.

--Henri Cole


Anonymous said...

Lovely, lovely. Thank you for sharing! It makes me think of TS Elliott: "Do I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?" Such an obsession with retaining youth...

Barbee' said...

I was reading along rocked as in a boat on the rhythms, thinking it was your writing. Then suddenly I hit a rock: --Henri Cole

Unknown said...

I wanted an end of summer poem for my blog and I googled and found yours. Very pretty. Thanks : )!

Benjamin Vogt said...

Rebeckah--Glad I could be of service; I'm thrilled to have "given" you a poem!