Wednesday, November 11, 2009

A Poem

I present this poem in honor of Lynn's Ceilidh, and I've now used this term twice in less than two weeks!


In Spring the Earth bends and melts toward the South,
Gathering the orb of sunrise in her left hand,
Then passing it along her breast, warming herself,
Until she lays it gently among the bare trees at dusk
And basks in the rosy glow chilled blue at the edge.

The days warm as she lifts her orb-passing hands higher and higher,
'Til over her head she brandishes fire,
Stretched to utmost peak,
Dazzling the fat green grown full all about her.

Her midsummer glory she cannot sustain,
But slowly limits the extent of her reach.
Day by dog day,
The sun's heat parches,
The dusty summer wearies.

Then, arms outstretched, she relinquishes her hold:
Drawn down toward heavy harvest,
The sun's blazes graze the trees.

Spent with the year, she lets go her hands,
And the dawn orb and dusk roll down to her feet.

Still, she waits, spent, chill,
Almost dead with the year.
But a freshet stirs, and calls her to listen.
And again she bends down, melting toward the South.

© Cindy Marsch
13 March 2007


Lynn B. said...

Oh, I can see it, all those arcs and arms and orbs... lovely, Cindy! Thank you so much for coming to the ceilidh!


Dominion Family said...

This is a beautiful picture. Genuinely beautiful.

Cindy Marsch said...

Thanks so much for your affirmations, ladies. I hope to find time to read through everybody else's poems soon...make that eventually. :-)

Gretchen Joanna said...

Your poem makes me thank God for the earth and the sun, and fills my heart with love for Creation.

Cindy Marsch said...

Thanks so much, Gretchen. :-) I just had a beautiful walk about four miles in the countryside from our home, and it was amazing for mid-November--temps in the upper 60s and sunshine everywhere. Lovely.