October 16, 2010

Poor Summer.... it doesn't know

Poor summer, it doesn't know it's dying.
A few days are all it has.

Still, the lake is with me, its strokes of blue-violet and the fiery sun replacing loneliness.

I feel like an animal that has found a place.

This is my burrow, my nest, my attempt to say I exist.

A rose can't shut itself and be a bud again. It's a malady, wanting it.

On the shore, the moon sprinkles light over everything, like a campfire, and in the green-black night, the tall pines hold their arms out as God held His arms out to say that He was lonely and that He was making Himself a man.


(Embers by Henri Cole)

6 comments:

  1. Beautiful words ... and that first photos if just stunning to someone like me who doesn't get to see Autumn colour! Lovely farewell to your Summer.

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  2. Wow, what lovely photos that completely captured the essence of the poem. They are so tranquil.

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  3. This poem really drew me into your photos. Perfect medley.

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  4. Lisa, thanks, it's melancholy but it fit.

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