The Closing Season

The wind is combing the one willow,

Untangling the fronds as a woman will

Bending over after washing her long hair,

Her fingers slipping through each strand,

An act of intimacy, unabashed, sensual.

 

The maples at the far end are almost

Bare, leaves not fallen into the pond

But blown up the slight embankment

And down into a little vale where they

Fill a small boat leaning on its side.

 

And because I stepped and startled it

A widening wedge of water where one

Teal glides deeper into the distance

Of the blue-gray water, and now into

Reeds, parting a little and then closing.





Poetry by countryfog
Read 440 times
star mini Editors' choice
Written on 2011-11-10 at 15:38

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Editorial Team The PoetBay support member heart!
This text has been chosen to be featured on the front page of PoetBay. Thank you for posting it on our poetry web site.
2011-11-10


shells
This is a beautiful acknowledgement to the closing season, I particularly enjoyed the opening stanza, there is a lovely willow tree in my local park where I walk and watch the changing seasons, I will think of this poem as I pass it by.
2011-11-10


josephus The PoetBay support member heart!
You never fail to amaze me with your use of word and phrase. I find myself waiting anxiously for the next one... I'm never disappointed.

Truly well done my friend.

Joe
2011-11-10


Rob Graber
A wonderful balance is achieved by the partings in stanzas one and three, and the title plays beautifully on "closing." Bravo!
2011-11-10