Taking The Road Past The Cemetery

 

But somewhere back there in the dust
 That same small town in each of us

     Don Henley, "The End Of The Innocence"

 

  

 

All day the dry summer wind, lifting and settling

Dust, perhaps from somewhere I have never been,

A fallow field west in the plains, or a prairie creek

East where the cutbank falls into August drought,

Into the streaming sun, following it here into dusk.

The leaves I know have not come far, the lightning

Storm that lifted over the road but not the oak,

Cut and split again into half-moons and quarters

Risen in someone's wood pile, its leavings catching

In blackberry brambles and tangle of holly hedge.

I think of another day in August, another year,

The few words from The Book of Common Prayer,

Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust. 

Believing in them only then because she had.

Now stars beginning, caught in the nets of dust  

Between them, some already dark, the wind dying.





Poetry by countryfog
Read 921 times
Written on 2015-08-03 at 12:32

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Jamsbo Rockda The PoetBay support member heart!
I have said it before and I will say it again, there is no-one who can bring a scene of nature to life with such attention to detail and imagery as you. You even manage to use a dying prayer to evoke the feeling of the image. Well done :)
2015-08-07



Thank you for the journey, my friend :-)
I enjoyed your imaginings of the source of the dust, ranging from west to east, and following the sun. Mention of the storm adds drama and I love the shapes made by the oak. There is a tender note in the memory of those familiar words from the Book of Common Prayer, 'believing ... because she had', and I find some solace in the stars beginning. A piece of great beauty, applauded by all at BBP.
2015-08-04


Brian Oarr
I've always felt the August sun owed us all an apology for its warmth. This poem, nevertheless, is much warmer, the poet seeming to conjure warm images at will.

This one is why we want to read poetry!
2015-08-03


Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
This is a great poem, Fog, nicely written, as always, but also very nicely realized from title to final line.
2015-08-03



The images develop in our minds as you take each step, each new sight. The thoughts of death and dust permeate our minds.
The poem takes the reader to those places and keeps us there for a while ... pondering. Enjoyed the read.
Ashe
2015-08-03



''...dust, perhaps from somewhere I've never been.'' This is a prime example of how skillful a poet you are. The dust becomes more than just dust--it becomes something of mystery and wonder, maybe having traveled for months, years, from somewhere far away to arrive finally at your feet, then becoming an oracle of what has been and what is to come. Then it transubstantiates into something sacred, into a memento mori--remember your death. And all this truth in just a handful of words.

Always a pleasure to read.
2015-08-03


Nils Teodor The PoetBay support member heart!
Very beautifully written
You are a master in painting with words
Thanks for sharing
N T
2015-08-03