Summer poems are prolix

Summer poems are prolix, extending tendrils
of metaphor and alliterative allusion; opulently
they reach out to the reader,
to the supposed reader, to the deferential target –
to anyone, really ā€“ and, carelessly, indulgently,
to no one at all.

Late summer poems get down,
a bit, to business. They live
the ripeness of the hour, and speak
the word attuned to it.

And then we come to Fall –
a tumbling
of pretense,
a crispness,
a look,
a stop.
And then a look again.

A shortening, then,
as the elegant
whiteness of the page
and behind it, the dark and perfect
eye of the mind,
gently draw in the ear, to be heard.

And then, for a gorgeous little while,
it is winter,
silent
&

About bobjanisdillon

Unitarian Universalist minister, poet, husband, father, three-chord guitar wonder.
This entry was posted in Other poetry and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s