This Present Wildness
“the present is a wild season, not a ruse.”
~ Gerald Vizenor
And so begins this present wildness.
Autumn will speak her mind in tones
to cause us all to hurt for home.
Such is her irreverent splendor.
Such is her symphony of disappointing joy.
Such is the curtained ache she leaves,
telling us one more time that
love is crisp and not enough.
Waxing very philosophical this morning, dear John. Thank you for this beauty, both words and picture. I will say that sometimes however, love is also green and supple, for which I give thanks. And I pray to God daily that it is enough. If it is not, what else is there? My love is so far from perfect, yet I am learning to trust that God’s love is another animal entirely.
You have framed it perfectly! Your poem, your photo. Fall calls me home. Thank you.
Beautiful words, beautiful image.
every word, every line, is necessary here. and perfect. you have a gift for pairing words that generally don’t belong together in a way that communicates unexpected truth…
irreverent splendor…
disappointing joy…
love the personification in the line “Autumn will speak her mind in tones…”
Then there’s the meaning itself. Autumn evokes this for me. A melancholy aching for home. Good, but hard because death is around the corner. one of the few poems I’ve written communicates something similar ~ “A maple’s final jubilation ushers it’s funeral song”
this is partly why I love bare branches, because I know that improbable life is around the corner. counters the ache
Sounds as if you are aching for the essence of autumn — like C.S.Lewis did!
Love that photo 🙂
You nailed it. You have the amazing, paradoxical gift of being able to express what words fail to say.