Mother's Day . . .




New Words For An Old Refrain

 

Write, the voice said.  For Whom? came the response.

For the dead whom thou didst love, came the instant reply.

      William Stafford, "Rosso Venexiano"

 

 

  

This year, coming again, brown and yellow

Finches composed along the tree line, leaves

Touching their voices like strings stretched

Taut across the frets of branches, tuned

To the one long measure of notes they sing

 

Again and again along the path of stones

They seem to know I take from the road

To the one stone that I keep in my care,

Clearing twigs and dirt from its few words,

The worn winter grass now greening again.

 

I've given years ago my grief to this ground,

Letting it take it into its own quiet care.

There is nothing buried here now but this

Long loving keeping of the past in the present,

These few words of mine and the finches' song.





Poetry by countryfog
Read 666 times
Written on 2015-05-10 at 13:46

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We are very fond of finches at BBP and we love their role in this graceful poem, providing that 'one long measure' to accompany our friend's progress along the well-worn path. It is cheering to read that the winter grass is 'greening again' and a tranquil tone pervades the final lines as the finches continue to sing.
Applause!
2015-05-13



I like the idea of giving our grief to the ground. It's a poetic and perfectly cadenced way of saying ''let it go.'' The earth is big and the soil is generous--it can hold a lot of grief.
2015-05-12



How beautiful your words remind us of those left behind and the love that never ends. Lyrical and visual. Beautiful.
2015-05-11



I'm gonna put this very simply: you are poetry!
2015-05-10