Monday, September 1, 2014


Absolute September
by Mary Jo Salter
How hard it is to take September
straight—not as a harbinger
of something harder.

Merely like suds in the air, cool scent
scrubbed clean of meaning—or innocent
of the cold thing coldly meant.

How hard the heart tugs at the end
of summer, and longs to haul it in
when it flies out of hand

at the prompting of the first mild breeze.
It leaves us by degrees
only, but for one who sees

summer as an absolute,
Pure State of Light and Heat, the height
to which one cannot raise a doubt,

as soon as one leaf's off the tree
no day following can fall free
of the drift of melancholy.

from A Kiss in Space. © Knopf, 1999.


jude said...

love the last verse, how it rhymes.

cyn said...

you are full of wonderful words today …cynthia

yvette said...

IT say

yvette said...


You gave me such beauty


grace Forrest~Maestas said...

i am so trying to get over all this...season. It's what the Earth needs to do and it is kindof emotionally inconvient to me, but i am such a small thing when the Planet is inconsideration, how the Planet tries to accomodate Stuff and also HerSelf

Ms. said...

:-> and :-<
It's poignant