The Irish poet and Nobel laureate Seamus Heaney who died last week, spoke of poetry as "an ark of the covenant between language and sensation." Those words themselves are poetry. I publish this try in honor of him.
Warm taupe widens late summer.
Spare green, the marsh grass
wearies under bottle brush tops
that loom, and broom
a lowering sun.
Pluff mud, that organic punk,
a primal slough
slurps at sandals,
halts ascent to distant diggers
forking a brown sugar bar.
In the Kelly clean of spring
You pray not to arrive here,
to forestall the leach of color,
this antiquing air.
But on the marsh,
the season holds its place,
a breath between new and old.
A slackening tide.
Amid the muting of the cicadas’ bleat,
August yellows a reminder.
We only recognize how much we love,
after a long goodbye.
Liza Carens Salerno 8/2013
6 comments:
oh how true.
I never thought of as August like a gateway between summer and fall. Or when we were kids, it was that last bit of enjoyment before back to school. August was always bittersweet. Its arrival meant school was starting in a month and it also meant one more month of vacation. Each day was felt a bit more keenly than those of June and July. And it was always the saddest month to see go... September meant getting back to that grind. And, yes, it meant something wonderful died. It always brought a pang to the heart when it left.
Since I now live in the south, and it is so much warmer, I feel like September is more like the gateway between summer and fall. It is only in October that the oppressive heat lets up a bit. This is an excellent reminder that September is here. We are crossing the bridge.
Awwww Liza!! This is a wonderful tribute to a great poet!!! Wonderful! Take care
x
Oh my, beautiful. The ending is lovely, but I really liked the image of the marsh grass brooming the sun.
"to forestall the leach of color"
I really love this line.
Great tribute to Seamus Heaney, who was not only a fantastic poet but also a gentleman.
I got a shock when walking in Dun Laoghaire at the weekend to see a poster for Mountains to the Sea festival this week...he was due to speak at it.
Life is indeed fleeting.
Such evocative language, Liza. So beautiful. What a vivid take on the landscape. I love the personification of nature in this in league with food metaphors. "slurps at sandals/halts ascent to distant diggers/ forking a brown sugar bar." I can taste the images. Those last two lines are just classic and seems to make the whole thing wholly applicable to human nature as well. Nicely done!
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