Sunday, September 04, 2005

September, again.

It's September again, and the light has changed.
We drift toward hunting season and the wind-driven, Roman whisper of bare trees etched stone-like against the sky.
It's Fall, now, the time of sounds and silence.
I tend toward the word choice of my country childhood.
The Fall. Such a plain and simple, complete word. Finality within it, and the end of certain things for a season, for a reason.
Some call it Autumn, a mellow poet's word, round as a moon.
I am reminded of Verlaine and violins.
I am reminded of many things.
In September, I watched the Towers fall.
Silent tears streaming , in a cold, black rage, I re-learned hate that day.
And love.
For the plain courage and simple decency of plain and simple, ordinary people, their courtesy, their civility, in the face of catastrophe.

But we are be-spelled by the finite now
and not the shimmering riff
of wind and water
mirror-bound and ballad-driven
to the infinity of beyond.
We must deal
with the light on lances
and the farewell of arrows.

A bien-pensant is for others
and another time,
if there is to be
meaning read among the echoes
that laser stike, emir haunted,
among the fallen steel.

Ah well.
It is September again, and the light has changed.


Olga said...

It was beautiful. If I add anything else, I'll spoil it.

Bernita said...

A beautiful compliment.
Thank you.

Bonnie Calhoun said...

Very real! To add to the melancholy of lost leaves(It always makes me sad to see them Fall)and memories of the Towers, now we have Katrina. That name will forever give me a chill. But you said it aptly....We must deal!

Bernita said...

Thank you, Bonnie. Appreciate your understanding.

Anonymous said...

"Some call it Autumn, a mellow, poet's word, round as a moon."

I love that line. Very nice work, Bernita.

Hope you don't mind, but I'm adding a link to you!

Bernita said...

My dear, I'm gratified.
Thank you.