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gertrude

January 2018

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countrygirl

It's National Poetry Day

Field of Autumn

Slow moves the acid breath of noon
over the copper-coated hill,
slow from the wild crab’s bearded breast
the palsied apples fall.

Like coloured smoke the day hangs fire,
taking the village without sound;
the vulture-headed sun lies low
chained to the violet ground.

The horse upon the rocky height
rolls all the valley in his eye,
but dares not raise his foot or move
his shoulder from the fly.

The sheep, snail-backed against the wall,
lifts her blind face but does not know
the cry her blackened tongue gives forth
is the first bleat of snow.

Each bird and stone, each roof and well,
feels the gold foot of autumn pass;
each spider binds with glittering snare
the splintered bones of grass.

Slow moves the hour that sucks our life,
slow drops the late wasp from the pear,
the rose tree’s thread of scent draws thin -
and snaps upon the air.

Laurie Lee

This poem was in an anthology I was given as a child, and I was very taken with it.

Comments

I don't think I've come across that poem before, but I can see why you were taken with it. Thankyou for providing a pleasant pause in the morning.
You're very welcome! I wouldn't say it was a favourite now, but picked it because I thought it probably wasn't well known.
What a lovely poem, I do like it. I must think about a poem I like and maybe post it :)
Please do!
It was in an anthology of 'modern' poets I studied for O level English, and I've always liked his poetry, but it seems to be largely forgotten these days.
I posted it because I thought it wasn't well known. I completely missed that there was a theme for the day: stars. Duh.