(Cover by N.C. Wyeth)Home
I didn't know I was grateful
for such late-autumn
bent-up cornfields
yellow in the after-harvest
sun before the
cold plow turns it all over
into never.
I didn't know
I would enter this music
that translates the world
back into dirt fields
that have always called to me
as if I were a thing
come from the dirt,
like a tuber,
or like a needful boy. End
Lonely days, I believe. End the exiled
and unraveling strangeness.
I didn't know I was grateful
for such late-autumn
bent-up cornfields
yellow in the after-harvest
sun before the
cold plow turns it all over
into never.
I didn't know
I would enter this music
that translates the world
back into dirt fields
that have always called to me
as if I were a thing
come from the dirt,
like a tuber,
or like a needful boy. End
Lonely days, I believe. End the exiled
and unraveling strangeness.
Bruce Weigl
I will not make it back to see the family in New England for Thanksgiving so the sentiment of the poem is more for the last time I was back in Connecticut two years ago. This year it will be spent in my adopted home with friends here in Iowa. I would like to send out best wishes to all those spending the holiday with their loved ones and families. I hope to see you all sooner than later.
3 comments:
Hope you had a happy Thanksgiving Day. Did you go to K.'s? I stopped over there later when we got back from Ottumwa.
Happy T-Day, don't over stuff yourself.
I didn't make it there but I did manage to stuff myself.
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