(Another piece from my "w. s. merwin days," when I didn't use punctuation, and meaning relied on line breaks and an overall impression. Was going for the gestalt, with a series of images only tentaively related.)
my hand traces
the lines of your heart
so many summers
before and after
O that love
could last like a river
sweet bird
will you sing tonight
spring arrives
with old fevers broken
in the shed is a plow
that knows love’s invitation
we come back to play
like the shadow of mountains
the rain is a harvest
and you are my rain
fall gently now
into this yellow season
fall
but be forever unbroken
the lines of your heart
so many summers
before and after
O that love
could last like a river
sweet bird
will you sing tonight
spring arrives
with old fevers broken
in the shed is a plow
that knows love’s invitation
we come back to play
like the shadow of mountains
the rain is a harvest
and you are my rain
fall gently now
into this yellow season
fall
but be forever unbroken
6 comments:
Lovely. I like the 'Keats like' soft silibants. It conjures such a gentle yearn.
Lane, glad you liked it :)
Such a rich longing here, Billy. Beautiful tracing of the past to present. I really want to linger inside these sweet sensations, this gentle invitation.
Sarah, thanks--I wanted it to be understated and gentle despite the aspect of longing -:)
This hums so nicely! :-) Love it.
Thanks, Seamus! (I'm envious that I can't put some music to it. Still thinking of your great post!)
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