Tuesday, May 13, 2008

On Waking

I grew up in hill country, where fog was rather common. I still identify waking up, the beginning of the day, with fog that lingers in the valleys.

It's something like the fog that lingers in my own head ... beading on the cobwebs there ... but that's another story.

Meanwhile, today's poem:

ON WAKING

The dense gray fog, that

silent stalker of valleys,

crept in like a dream

while we slept, lingered,

defying the sun's efforts

to take back this place

where the sassafras shares

a hillock with honeysuckle,

outdoing the dew itself,

globules riding a coolness

that speaks of changes

coming, a shift of seasons,

a briskness that will make

the covers more precious

in the morning, gentle fire

like a warm embrace when

evening brings us home.

© 2001

(originally published in Waterways)

***

Today's word: embrace

Afterthoughts ... in response to your comments:

My immediate reaction to your comment, Featheredpines, was that I had done my job well ... but then I was reminded of what I so often say ... and I think it's true, especially of poetry: So much depends on what the reader brings to the poem. Bottom line: I glad you "can almost smell the wet, green mornings from here."

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

Sassafras, honeysuckle, dew and fog remind me of a few places where I've lived over the years...  Wonderful memories.  I can almost smell the wet, green mornings from here...

Anonymous said...

You are so modest :)