Three cheers for Michelle H. Barns for hosting today's Poetry Friday on her blog: Today's Little Ditty.
I've learned so much from keeping up with her blog. Writing with Michelle feels like I'm participating in a workshop.
My poetry searches seemed to create a bit of a poem/painting conversation, this week. Enjoy.
September 2
In the evening there were flocks of nighthawks
passing southward over the valley. The tall
sunflowers stood, burning on their stalks
to cold seed, by the still river. And high
up the birds rose into sight against the darkening
clouds. They tossed themselves among the fading
landscapes of the sky like rags, as in
abandonment to the summons their blood knew.
And in my mind, where had stood a garden
straining to the light, there grew
an acceptance of decline. Having worked,
I would sleep, my leaves all dissolved in flight.
passing southward over the valley. The tall
sunflowers stood, burning on their stalks
to cold seed, by the still river. And high
up the birds rose into sight against the darkening
clouds. They tossed themselves among the fading
landscapes of the sky like rags, as in
abandonment to the summons their blood knew.
And in my mind, where had stood a garden
straining to the light, there grew
an acceptance of decline. Having worked,
I would sleep, my leaves all dissolved in flight.
 |
| Now Soft Fall is coming shhhhhhhhhhh |
September 9
It’s turneresque in twilight. The word comes at me
with its headlights on, so it’s revelation and not death.
I figure I’m halfway home though I’ve only started.
Nothing is moving but me: I’m a blackbird. The neigh-
bor’s in labor, but so am I, pushing against the road.
Physics tells us nothing is lost, but I’ve been copping
time from death and can’t relent for every job the stars
drop on my back.
I enjoyed the poetry conversation-one poem paired with another plus brilliant images. September has its own magic. Today still lingers in summer.
ReplyDeleteI like the way both authors use the birds to express their inner feelings. I love Berry's last line. Thanks for this beautiful post, Linda.
ReplyDeleteGorgeous poems, Linda!
ReplyDeleteThat Wendell Berry poem takes my breath away! And the pairing of poems and images is amazing. Here in Indiana, fall is definitely coming even though the temps are rising for a while next week.
ReplyDeletePairing these poems together does indeed make a thought-full conversation, Linda. Thanks for shedding new light on the season. (And thanks for your thoughtful comment about TLD, too!)
ReplyDeleteBeautiful pairings, Linda. I saw some of Turner's work in DC a few years ago. Wow, 19,000 pieces of his work! I thought of fall this week. Although the days are still hot, the nights have changed to cool, the message has been sent to the trees and some parts are turning, that "acceptance of decline"?
ReplyDeleteJust what I needed today. Love the poems, the September "conversation." Thank you, Linda!
ReplyDeleteI agree about Michelle's blog. It's wonderful! Thanks for sharing the poems, Linda. The language is beautiful.
ReplyDeleteFall has arrived here in CT, and the light this afternoon is "turneresque." I love Berry's image of birds tossing themselves into the "sky like rags" but Ballew's painting is the highlight of your beautiful post for me. I want to step into it and walk through that field. Thank you for sharing, Linda!
ReplyDeleteWendell Berry -- just gorgeous. I love these lines: "They tossed themselves among the fading/ landscapes of the sky like rags, as in/ abandonment to the summons their blood knew." That summons is so suggestive.
ReplyDeleteSuch a delightful pairing and a gentle jolt that fall is almost upon us! Thanks for the poems and your inspired connections. :0)
ReplyDeleteI love how this first poem's lines continue to circle around and change on themselves from beginning of the line to the end, "where had stood a garden
ReplyDeletestraining to the light, there grew
an acceptance of decline."
And these wonderful lines in Elizabeth Willis"poem are also doing an about-face as they end,
"Nothing is moving but me: I’m a blackbird. The neigh-
bor’s in labor, but so am I, pushing against the road.
Thanks for the poems, and images, Linda!
These poems and photos are lovely. Yesterday while driving, we saw several flocks of geese flying south and I murmured, "Something told the wild geese/it was time to go." (My husband just looked at me oddly.) The Wendell Berry lines reminded me of that poem as well--the pulse and pull of instinct--"as in abandonment to the summons their blood knew." Thanks for sharing.
ReplyDelete