Have you ever made a turn into the wrong road and been fascinated ... or, perhaps, repelled ... by what you found at its end? This poem by Denise Levertov answers that question.
A Clearing
by Denise Levertov
What lies at the end of enticing
country driveways, curving
off among trees? Often only
a car graveyard, a house-trailer,
a trashy bungalow. But this one,
for once, brings you
through the shade of its green tunnel
to a paradise of cedars,
of lawns mown but not too closely,
of iris, moss, fern, rivers of stone rounded
by sea or stream,
of a wooden unassertive large-windowed house.
The big trees enclose
an expanse of sky, trees and sky
together protect the clearing.
One is sheltered here
from the assaultive world
as if escaped from it, and yet
once arrived, is given (oneself
and others being a part of that world)
a generous welcome.
It's paradise
as a paradigm for how
to live on earth,
how to be private and open
quiet and richly eloquent.
Everything man-made here
was truly made by the hands
of those who live here, of those
who live with what they have made.
It took time, and is growing still
because it's alive.
It is paradise, and paradise
is a kind of poem; it has
a poem's characteristics:
inspiration; starting with the given;
unexpected harmonies; revelations.
It's rare among
the worlds one finds
at the end of enticing driveways.
Have a good day and enjoy the rest of your weekend. More thoughts coming.
Bilbo
3 comments:
This poem made me think of how much Wynne and I have done at our home (which we affectionately call the CCZ, for "Catalina Construction Zone"). We love it here, and hope you and Agnes can come visit someday.
I used to like exploring old roads. Not so much anymore. Old roads lead to ticks and ticks can spot me coming a mile away.
Really nice! Rare indeed.
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