from Philip Larkin:
The Trees
The trees are coming into leaf
Like something almost being said;
The recent buds relax and spread,
Their greenness is a kind of grief.
Is it that they are born again
And we grow old? No, they die too.
Their yearly trick of looking new
Is written down in rings of grain.
Yet still the unresting castles thresh
In fullgrown thickness every May.
Last year is dead, they seem to say,
Begin afresh, afresh, afresh.
Peace to all in the new year, and deepest thanks to all who stop by here, either occasionally or frequently.
6 comments:
Thank you for yet another great New Year poem, and another year of haiku. I look forward to what lies ahead.
Thank you.
Happy New Year! I went into SF for my birthday last week and while we hoofed it all around town, I kept a tally of orphaned gloves, keeping your post on same in mind. There were only two (in 8 hours), but my heightened awareness of unpaired appendage accessories led to a tally of abandoned single socks: 5. We saw "The Aritst" while in town, and if you have the time, it's worth the price of admission.
Happy new year to you too, Sibyl. I've been wondering how you were doing. I'm not surprised New York provided more lost gloves, but I am a bit surprised at the lost socks. It would not be prudent to abandon shoes and socks on these cold wet sidewalks! Yesterday I was sweeping up the frontyard of my house and on the sidewalk I found an abandoned bra, made of some sort of stretchy black fabric. So I hope that was because of a happy rather than an unhappy new year's eve.
Thanks for the word on The Artist. I'm a big fan of silent films and am looking forward to seeing it (probably on DVD, when it comes out).
I would suggest seeing The Artist projected, just because the b/w is so, so lush, but maybe that's just me. One wonders what an abandoned bra in the front yard presages for the New Year. The mind reels.
Actually, I'm guessing the abandoned bra presages more for the abandoner than for me -- I just had more to clean up. . . .
Post a Comment