10:21 PM Posted by James Owens

Lavender

An autumn day of honey and breezes,
when the pores of the air swell with the late year--

driving yesterday past an ordinary field of soybeans,
their leaves had aged to the yellow gleam of lemons

in the sunlight -- like the waxy sides of lemons and clean,
sharp glints under the afternoon sunlight--

wide rows ruffling in wind to the horizon
and somehow recalling the purple lavender fields

of Provence where we will walk one day.

Crows shifted nervously from the road
to the field’s edge as the car passed, honing

their small, stubborn gift for elegy on the high fence wires
and glancing toward winter, a far mirror

to be scratched by sleet and emaciated vines.

Now, as long shadows bleed from the roots of trees,
stop and think of Provence again, slowly.

.

6 comments:

Roxana said...

Now, as long shadows bleed from the roots of trees,
i stop and think of your words again, slowly -

how wonderful all this is, dear James... thank you for being here.

James Owens said...

Thank you, Roxana ... thank YOU for being here, where your words always lift me up....

Sorlil said...

Very rich in detail and imagery as usual. I love your description of the crows and these lines particularly -

"stubborn gift for elegy on the high fence wires
and glancing toward winter, a far mirror

to be scratched by sleet and emaciated vines."

The last line of the poem is perfect.

James Owens said...

Sorlil: Thank you for reading, and for noticing these lines. I was unsure of them, especially the mirror bit....

Sorlil said...

I love the image of the far mirror and the echo of the sounds in winter / far/ mirror.

sam of the ten thousand things said...

From stanza two on - "past an ordinary field," I like how the poem unfolds - and continues to the end, James. A powerful closing couplet.