If words could hold this world

They would bend themselves to one     

Transparency.

        -  Henry Rago, “The Knowledge of Light




Sabbath at Longacre Pond

Above the angelus of frogs,

Near one end of the pond

Lean a few October maples,

 

Leaves stained glass slivers

Gathering the first light,

Scarlet, saffron, burnt sienna,

 

Magenta and raw umber,

Holding and folding it in

A shimmering transparency,

 

And where they bend over

The still water they enter

Into it in rooted reflection,

 

Both the sky and the water

A single sunstruck image,

As though neither alone

 

Could hold all this light,

Mist curling and lifting

Over ripples of flames,

 

The last geese fleeing

Across the lit ground

To the flickering water.

 

Tonight the first frost

Will loose the last leaves,

Nesting the shallow cove

 

Where they will congregate

One more night, already

Dreaming their way south.





Poetry by countryfog
Read 406 times
Written on 2011-10-03 at 17:40

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Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Fog, you are the last of the transcendentalists. I say this as a compliment.
2011-10-08



It is no coincidence that this poem is a poem of Sunday, for it is a poem of reverence.
2011-10-04


ken d williams The PoetBay support member heart!
Exultant , an exultant , discripshan of Aurtamn. Hear Auterm as been delaide some what. Tho soon auterm will show it self in all it's glory.
Ken ( : = ) )
2011-10-04



What a splendid piece, Mr Fog.
Such a beautiful picture presented to the mind's eye in your description, particularly with regard to the maples in their Autumn splendour and the geese preparing for migration.
Applaudeth!
2011-10-03