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:
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.
Thank you, Roxana ... thank YOU for being here, where your words always lift me up....
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.
Sorlil: Thank you for reading, and for noticing these lines. I was unsure of them, especially the mirror bit....
I love the image of the far mirror and the echo of the sounds in winter / far/ mirror.
From stanza two on - "past an ordinary field," I like how the poem unfolds - and continues to the end, James. A powerful closing couplet.
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