Thoughts on a November surprise that doesn't involve elections ...
A November Surprise
by Anne Porter
Wild geese are flocking and calling in pure golden air,
Glory like that which painters long ago
Spread as a background for some little hermit
Beside his cave, giving his cloak away,
Or for some martyr stretching out
On her expected rack.
A few black cedars grow nearby
And there's a donkey grazing.
Small craftsmen, steeped in anonymity like bees,
Gilded their wooden panels, leaving fame to chance,
Like the maker of this wing-flooded golden sky,
Who forgives all our ignorance
Both of his nature and of his very name,
Freely accepting our one heedless glance.
Have a good day and enjoy the rest of your weekend. More thoughts coming.
Bilbo
3 comments:
This is the time of year the geese show up around here. There is a pond right across the street from up.
Thank you, good sir.
Really nice poem. I like the imagery.
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