Sunday, September 05, 2010


"I have come to a still, but not a deep center,
A point outside the glittering current;
My eyes stare at the bottom of a river,
At the irregular stones, iridescent sandgrains,
My mind moves in more than one place,
In a country half-land, half-water.
I am renewed by death, thought of my death,
The dry scent of a dying garden in September,
The wind fanning the ash of a low fire.
What I love is near at hand,
Always, in earth and air."
- Theodore Roethke, The Far Field


Ael said...

September leads to October.

Have you decided what battle is for October? I suggest the Battle of the Milvian Bridge (for all sorts of reasons, but particularly its effect on world religions).

Lisa said...

Beautiful. I was thinking of this from Rilke only yesterday:

Love consists in this, that two solitudes protect and touch and greet each other.


Lisa said...

Oops, "Roethke" -- I read too fast.

"His spirit moves like monumental wind / That gentles on a sunny blue plateau. He is the end of things, the final man"

That one.