before the harvest, we were free
“ it was a riverside meadow, lush from before the harvest.” milosz
before the harvest, we were free
before the harvest we were free to watch the corn shoot clearly through the low
hanging clouds, neither proud nor meek, we heard the dying grasses speak a summer tongue--
translating a still hot summer into a more bearable, fragrant fall
a call to drop arms, guns, knives at the source of a drum drumming in the deep
green of a late summer wood
the middle of the harbor heaving its blue green,
glistening in a tired summer sun
ushering all of us in for a swim-
how late august brings us to our knees, in gentle pleas
to get on with the cooler, more easily breathable season we call autumn
before the harvest, we were free
before the harvest we were free to watch the corn shoot clearly through the low
hanging clouds, neither proud nor meek, we heard the dying grasses speak a summer tongue--
translating a still hot summer into a more bearable, fragrant fall
a call to drop arms, guns, knives at the source of a drum drumming in the deep
green of a late summer wood
the middle of the harbor heaving its blue green,
glistening in a tired summer sun
ushering all of us in for a swim-
how late august brings us to our knees, in gentle pleas
to get on with the cooler, more easily breathable season we call autumn
 |
| words/photo~kate lamberg (c) '18 |
Comments
Post a Comment