I think I know this scene.
Boulders clutched by roots,
and the smooth trunks bent
around granite contours
by weather and the immeasurable
growth of rock.
Long green brush-strokes
convey a season’s yield of grasses.
If I looked away – say,
out the window
at my parceled acres
and the newly fallen pine –
and then if I looked back,
how much longer
would those brush-strokes be?
What new shadows,
what graceful bending tree
might have fallen?
Would someone
dreaming a different landscape
have come to drive the first
fencepost?
Would the barb-wire
already be strung?
Taylor Graham, California, USA
This is a wonderful, quietly powerful poem.
ReplyDeleteI'm a painter, this poem is a fine painting. Treat to my ears to see those sights, especially the landscape in combination with the interior, very personal.
ReplyDeleteA powerful poem indeed, and one which conveys the ideas within Cezanne's paintings beautifully...
ReplyDelete