23 September 2016

Autumn Poetry

by Amy Lowell

All day I have watched the purple vine leaves
Fall into the water.
And now in the moonlight they still fall,
But each leaf is fringed with silver.

Source: Poetry

Autumn Sky 
by Charles Simic

In my great grandmother's time, 
All one needed was a broom 
To get to see places 
And give the geese a chase in the sky. 


The stars know everything, 
So we try to read their minds. 
As distant as they are, 
We choose to whisper in their presence. 


Oh Cynthia, 
Take a clock that has lost its hands 
For a ride. 
Get me a room at Hotel Eternity 
Where Time likes to stop now and then. 


Come, lovers of dark corners, 
The sky says, 
And sit in one of my dark corners. 
There are tasty little zeroes 
In the peanut dish tonight.

Source: Poetry

Day in Autumn
by Ranier Maria Rilke
Translated by Mary Kinzie

After the summer's yield, Lord, it is time 
to let your shadow lengthen on the sundials 
and in the pastures let the rough winds fly. 

As for the final fruits, coax them to roundness. 
Direct on them two days of warmer light 
to hale them golden toward their term, and harry 
the last few drops of sweetness through the wine. 

Whoever's homeless now, will build no shelter; 
who lives alone will live indefinitely so, 
waking up to read a little, draft long letters,   
and, along the city's avenues, 
fitfully wander, when the wild leaves loosen.

Source: Poetry

The Heat of Autumn
by Jane Hirshfield
The heat of autumn 
is different from the heat of summer.   
One ripens apples, the other turns them to cider.   
One is a dock you walk out on,   
the other the spine of a thin swimming horse 
and the river each day a full measure colder.   
A man with cancer leaves his wife for his lover. 
Before he goes she straightens his belts in the closet,   
rearranges the socks and sweaters inside the dresser 
by color. That’s autumn heat: 
her hand placing silver buckles with silver,   
gold buckles with gold, setting each   
on the hook it belongs on in a closet soon to be empty,   
and calling it pleasure.

Jane Hirshfield, "The Heat of Autumn" from After. Copyright © 2006 by Jane Hirshfield.  
Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers Inc.

by Marjorie Pickthall

Now in the West the slender moon lies low, 
And now Orion glimmers through the trees, 
Clearing the earth with even pace and slow, 
And now the stately-moving Pleiades, 
In that soft infinite darkness overhead 
Hang jewel-wise upon a silver thread. 

And all the lonelier stars that have their place, 
Calm lamps within the distant southern sky, 
And planet-dust upon the edge of space, 
Look down upon the fretful world, and I 
Look up to outer vastness unafraid 
And see the stars which sang when earth was made. 

Buffalo Dusk 
by Carl Sandburg

The buffaloes are gone.
And those who saw the buffaloes are gone.
Those who saw the buffaloes by thousands and how they pawed the prairie sod into dust with their hoofs, their great heads down pawing on in a great pageant of dusk,
Those who saw the buffaloes are gone.
And the buffaloes are gone.

Source: The Complete Poems of Carl Sandburg (Harcourt Brace Iovanovich Inc., 1970)


Kathleen Cassen Mickelson said...

This was a very nice meander through autumn poetry. And the photo is gorgeous. Yours from out East?

Constance Brewer said...

Yes, my photo from a trip to NY. One of my brother's favorite back roads.

Lisa Goyne said...

I think I could follow that road forever.

Constance Brewer said...

I love meandering on NY state backroads.