Essay on November
There is at times a small fire
In the brain, partita for violin,
Brier, black stem,
All burning in the quarter notes.
And the hedgerow
Beyond the barn
Calls its starlings in.
Then frost, sere leaves,
A swollen half-moon
Like a drowsy fingertip
Above the apple trees.
--Steven Kuusisto
"Only Bread, Only Light"
There is at times a small fire
In the brain, partita for violin,
Brier, black stem,
All burning in the quarter notes.
And the hedgerow
Beyond the barn
Calls its starlings in.
Then frost, sere leaves,
A swollen half-moon
Like a drowsy fingertip
Above the apple trees.
--Steven Kuusisto
"Only Bread, Only Light"
3 comments:
I have been enjoying this November so much this year. How the rain makes the tree trunks absolutely black and how the colors on the remaining few leaves on the trees just pop against the cloudy gray sky.
I just love the feel of this November.
Funny, I can't ever read the word "hedgerow" without thinking:
"If there's a bustle in your hedgerow, don't be alarmed now,
It's just a spring clean for the May queen."
Why, thank you for noticing and posting Steve's poem. He'll be tickled when I tell him I found this.
Happy November.
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