NOVEMBER
It is an old drama
this disappearance of the leaves,
this seeming death
of the landscape.
In a later scene,
or earlier,
the trees like gnarled magicians
produce handkerchiefs
of leaves
out of empty branches.
And we watch.
We are like children
at this spectacle
of leaves,
as if one day we too
will open the wooden doors
of our coffins
and come out smiling
and bowing
all over again.
~ Linda Pastan, born 1932, American poet
Gladsome Lights 
Wonderful! I’m saving this one for use down the road — it’s rare to find such original presentations of an old, old subject. What a perfect poem.
I found one I’d never read by Denise Levertov that I posted for Veterans Day on Laniappe. She’s another one who can approach the most difficult subjects with grace — and her words about peace-making are especially needed today, in this different kind of war our country’s experiencing.
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What great imagery at the end there, coming out of our coffins, bowing and smiling! A wonderful poem and something to remember. Thank you!
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Oh, that’s a good one! Thanks, sweet friend! xoxo
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That is very nice. I am glad you are home too. Adjusting to the smoke is hard though. I have had a headache since I got into California driving through. It’s really smoky here.
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Recently I’ve been exploring writers and poets that I never paid much attention to in my younger days (I read other things at the time), so I’m pleased to have the introduction to this American poet, Linda Pastan. And what a lovely poem. I’m off to search out more of her works.
Wishing you a beautiful day…
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That’s lovely.
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