The slight crisp to the air, people talking pumpkin lattes (still not sure how i feel about these but i am totally resonant with the cinnamony spirt of it), it has me with one hand in summer and one hand in cozy crisp sweet times....
I can picture some crackling maple leaves falling around in a shower of glory. ahhh. these dear blue books and this glorious spilling light seem to be the dressing for sweet times to come.
i also picture nosing through old books and finding a letter or poem from yore that awakes the soul, marks treasure hunting, and intrigue. or maybe just casts the heart into joy.
poems such as the one to come that go really deep and then explode with aliveness. ahhh. like a mountain stream coming up from its deep traverse through ground and earth and splashing out onto valley meadows. mountain air poem.
That Day
by Denise Levertov
I knew this! I'd seen it!
not the sensation of deja vu:
it was Blake's inkwash vision,
the spirit of God moving upon
the Face of the Waters!
We rose to our feet, then it
reached us, took us
into its veil of silver, wrapped us
in its finest weave of net,
and we laughed,
for
joy,
astonished.
2 comments:
i adore the dear books on the footstool, the twinklies amidst those branches and annie dillards words of insight, and the poem- (so amazing it gives me the shivers)... all do "awake my soul and cast my heart into joy"
mmm don't know if you two check back here but it is so fun to respond...call and respond. the words you both used are pure and evocative back -- contrast, cracklyness, shivers and twinklies. oh yes. us three should put our heads around some fireplace and listen to a poem reading. ahhh....
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