surveying the fields


"The sunlight on the garden"
The sunlight on the garden
Hardens and grows cold,
We cannot cage the minute
Within its nets of gold;
When all is told
We cannot beg for pardon.
Our freedom as free lances
Advances towards its end;
The earth compels, upon it
Sonnets and birds descend;
And soon, my friend,
We shall have no time for dances.
The sky was good for flying
Defying the church bells
And every evil iron
Siren and what it tells:
The earth compels,
We are dying, Egypt, dying
And not expecting pardon,
Hardened in heart anew,
But glad to have sat under
Thunder and rain with you,
And grateful too
For sunlight on the garden.
 -- Louis MacNeice
As I gathered my pumpkins this past weekend (13 baking pumpkins, 8 carving Halloween pumpkins) and again gathered another bunch of tomatoes yesterday I surveyed the dying gardens. Today the head gardener was plowing some of the gardens under, clearing away the dead plants, leaving smooth rows of dark Earth. It is time for processing and storing and setting things aside; saying goodbye to green and gold fields; preparing ourselves daily for fall with the ever changing leaves coloring, drying and falling off the trees. 
Things on the horizon: Thursday my friend Kelly and I are driving out to visit our friend Christy at the Farm she works on out near Boston. Looking forward to seeing another farm and how they do their gardening! Pics to follow once my computer is fixed!

Comments

Mummy Dearest said…
That poem makes me so sad :(
Man, poets... and their abilities.

Popular posts from this blog

that elusive thing

Library Love