Tuesday, September 16, 2014

a glint

To the Light of September

by W.S. Merwin

When you are already here
you appear to be only
a name that tells of you
whether you are present or not

and for now it seems as though
you are still summer
still the high familiar
endless summer
yet with a glint
of bronze in the chill mornings
and the late yellow petals
of the mullein fluttering
on the stalks that lean
over their broken
shadows across the cracked ground

but they all know
that you have come
the seed heads of the sage
the whispering birds
with nowhere to hide you
to keep you for later

who fly with them

you who are neither
before nor after
you who arrive
with blue plums
that have fallen through the night

perfect in the dew

And this was the light one morning last week, September light, which is quite unto itself, that distinctive.

And along with the golden September glint, a fairly heavy frost, which finished off many of the flowers. 

Out along the walkway, the frost seemed even heavier, but the light still so golden.

The sun came out and burned the frost off quite quickly, though the damage was done. 

We can see our breath now, many mornings.

Worth it though, to be out early, to see the light coming through, low and syrupy.

One last shot of the guy I call my personal trainer, my mental health practitioner, and good, dependable friend.


  1. Beautiful shots! Love the poem. September light is quite unique alright. The last of the summer honey.

    1. Thanks Siobhan! Yes, summer honey. Lovely.

    2. Very crispy pictures, beautiful. Here is everything foggy, misty and silver grey, beautiful in it's own way.

  2. Perfectly exquisite! Thanking you for the poem :) xo


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