Poetry Sunday: End of Summer by Stanley Kunitz
I've featured this poem here before but here it is again. So sue me!
I actually like the poem quite a lot. I particularly like the image in the first stanza of the "unloved year" turning on its hinge. This year, which goodness knows has given me little reason to love it, will be turning on its hinge in a few days as the seasons change and we head into its last quarter. I can only hope that in these last three months the year's "agitation of the air" and "perturbation of the light" might finally redeem 2025 for me and give me a reason to remember it with fondness.
End of Summer
by Stanley Kunitz
An agitation of the air,
A perturbation of the light
An agitation of the air,
A perturbation of the light
Admonished me the unloved year
Would turn on its hinge that night.
I stood in the disenchanted field
Amid the stubble and the stones,
Amazed, while a small worm lisped to me
The song of my marrow-bones.
Blue poured into summer blue,
A hawk broke from his cloudless tower,
The roof of the silo blazed, and I knew
That part of my life was over.
Already the iron door of the north
Clangs open: birds, leaves, snows
Order their populations forth,
And a cruel wind blows.
The final verse is quite ominous - 'a cruel wind blows' for too many, living in despair.
ReplyDeleteExactly and their numbers seem to be growing.
DeleteI would echo Jabblog’s words. Cruel and bitter winds shape the lives of so many.
ReplyDeleteThe poet's description seems very perceptive in our present circumstance.
DeleteCold, cruel and bitter winds have enveloped too many on our planet. May happier times come and quickly.
ReplyDeleteWe can hope...
DeleteIt's a great poem! Though I'm not ready for the iron door of the north to clang open.
ReplyDeleteWell, it never clangs very loudly where I am. Maybe in January...
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