"What do you plan to do with your one, wild, precious life?" -Mary Oliver

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Still Life In A Killing Frost

The sun burst out from under a cloud bank
and the grass is once again green.
The trees are shanks of orange
and the fields are gold.
The mossy sides
of the dying ash shimmer
as though it weren't so
and the mums are earth afire.
Everything faces east.
Still. Still. Still.
Not even a raucous crow greets the day.
But the clouds prevailed, opened and swallowed.
The trees are black and the grass dormant.
Mums sway under the weight of frost
and the crow awakes
with moving eye.

8 comments:

foldingfields said...

A great picture of autumn stillness, (love that line still. still. still.) though I get the feeling there's more to come...
p.s. there's a typo in the second line--I know you meant grass, but it says gass. :)
Sarah

Liza said...

This is wonderful...it made me wish I was there...that I could take a picture...except you already did with your words.

Yvonne Osborne said...

Sarah,
Thanks! A little scary how one can miss a simple mistake like that through numerous reads. I guess the eye will see what the brain is thinking. Or something like that. Thank you.

Liza,
What a nice compliment. Thank you.

Franklin Beaumont said...

What an evocative portrait of a moment. Captures my current climate, but makes it seem serene. Gave me a peaceful feeling... thanks for the mood adjustment Yvonne.

As for the typo, that happens to me all the time. I read a sentence as it was in my head, not how it is... strange how the mind works.

Yvonne Osborne said...

Franklin,
Hi! Thank you very much.

Anthony Duce said...

Like your still life here. I see it as a temporary death. The killer has power only part of the year. Great poem….

Enchanted Oak said...

The mums are earth afire ! ..... The crow wakes with moving eye ! ..... Oh, very nice writing, Yvonne. I love the vision of the quietly dying earth and waking crow.

Yvonne Osborne said...

Tony,
Thank you. Thank God winter only has temporary power. Everything in its time.

Chris,
Thanks! Something about the crow inspires writing. They're pretty smart and very noisy this time of year.