Inspired from “The Snakes of September”, By: Stanley Kunitz
Our roots now deep
within the quiet refrain
of December’s stillborn
renditions that course fugitive
for distilled moments
given of time’s patent for
fresh reserve.
Soon new buds will browse
the first chill of January’s virgin
mist that binds our tethered limbs
as we begin to reach once again
towards boundary’s end.
Winter casts to Spring
Proche new moons delivered
by a vernal sun juxtaposed for our
common mortality amidst
new awakenings of your fraise fruits
to kiss my restless flesh.
Spring yields to Summer’s lust
which soothes with warm embrace
as our conjoined spirts swell to a
collective breath for the muted
affection of shared gifts that again
repose within some common purpose
for all creation.
As summer surrenders to Fall’s fettered
threads of discriminate praise for
moments well spent generations
break to be born again, to be shared
once more, never to be separated
until that December when we are
spared eternally at boundary’s end.
Châz
“My father used to say there are four things that tell the world who a man is: his house, his car, his wife and his shoes.” Danny DeVito as Gavin D’Amato – The War of the Roses (1989) –
Add to that: His garden –
