Wednesday, September 7, 2011

Goodbye to All That

Embers by Henri Cole
click here for Cole's reading of the 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.

1 comment:

Joni said...

Beautiful poem, Robley! Thanks for sharing it. Before all the tropical storm/hurricane mess, we were feeling some of the morning coolness as signs of the end of summer. I wonder when that will return. :-)