Most Importantly, October.
by Ariane Scott
he tugged the last of the tomatoes
from the garden and by Thursday
it was snowing. There was
something about the way
that storm hit, like somewhere
a wintry dimension exploded
and the remnants dusted here,
white ash fallen from the slow breath
of a faith-waking fate and they were
still lost in Autumn, lost
on that backyard hill with
the creaking trees
and the amber leaves,
battling a curious wrapping,
calming a startled season,
flinching at the white weight
of a storm
come too soon.
Posted on 04/07/2007
Copyright © 2021 Ariane Scott
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 04/07/07 at 05:53 PM|
Oh, I do like this!! "white ash fallen from the slow breath of a faith-waking fate". This could be autumn becoming winter or, like here, spring and winter doing their back and forth chachacha dance of change.
|Posted by Laura Doom on 04/07/07 at 09:26 PM|
Premonition in retrospect? Green, amber, red - reverse-engineering and nature despites itself. Something somewhere the precise turning.
And nothing makes sense to me *slurp*
|Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 11/08/07 at 04:10 PM|
I have come back to read this with such pleasure. Your phrases are intense and creative, and the whole idea of "calming a startled season" leaves me chuckling and reaching for my heavy coat!
|Posted by Kathleen Wilson on 11/08/07 at 05:13 PM|
The title is amazing here, gives the poem, as it says... an import even beyond the spoken. The details are delicious, the "tugged" at tomatoes" and the other actions of "calming" and "flinching" "and the white weight of a storm come too soon"--these too evoke a depth more than snowdrift in the psychological underpinnings of this... very moving, subtle poem.
|Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 10/02/09 at 06:46 PM|
Congrats on POTD! Frost here the past two days.
|Posted by Jim Benz on 10/03/09 at 03:23 AM|
The POTD gods picked well today.