Monday, November 7, 2016

Golden Harvest, with apologies to Wallace Stevens

A beautiful fall day, my front porch rail, a Mason jar, one blue jay feather, a sprig of red berries, and three hickory nuts, their cases with the smell of home, that sharp pull of earth and childhood: even my humble jar pulled the "wilderness" around it and "took dominion."

Wallace Stevens

I placed a jar in Tennessee,
And round it was, upon a hill.
It made the slovenly wilderness
Surround the hill.

The wilderness rose up to it,
And sprawled around, no longer wild.
The jar was round upon the ground
And tall and of a port in air.

It took dominion everywhere.
The jar was gray and bare.
It did not give of bird or bush,
Like nothing else in Tennessee.

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