Classic and Contemporary Poetry
WHEN SLOW OCTOBER CHANGES COLOR, by UMBERTO PIERSANTI Poet's Biography First Line: It's like the sweet must that wasps Subject(s): Autumn; Seasons; Fall | ||||||||
It's like the sweet must that wasps cover thick and greedy in the soft October mist as it drifts into the stables the sun that here has darkened the hawthorn berry's pulp is now violet over the cone of grasslands where ends this most beautiful of the Cesana mountains under the white thorn the naked breast enjoys the tepid odors in the air my white blood is warm among the humors Fallen with the dusk amid the brambles we were on a footpath brimming with grass where the chicory still grows blue in heavy dew in a month not its own shadows had fallen long across the fallow ground rising high in the night and upturned Grace sees the sign that has burdened her ever since the years when she used to tie her hair up in a ribbon I nodded my head and only said that at times around this hour I heard a sound sweet and clear among the vaults we used to thrash the walnut tree at night the dark hulls opening as they fall she says she doesn't remember -- certainly she's never dipped her long hands in its green -- the blows thundered in the grass shells were lost in the darkness and only your smile went down to the banks a bit later in the middle of the glade along the grassy path running through it the bushes lit up with a singing first a faint trill then a thunder bursting through the thicket in reply October has striped in motley red the still yellow arbutus berries from the strawberry tree they fall with long stems that the wind moves over the billows I've hung one from your lips and we kiss in its pulp I had returned with my mother to the place where virgin's-bower even twists about the brambles this thicket is my own and here I've looked for mushrooms that stand thin among the hornbeams when with grandmother we used to get up at four to mist-covered grasslands but she sees nothing any more from the whitewashed house where she has gone to stay she never used to miss a single walnut in the grass or nest among the reeds she's well past ninety now and almost all her vision's gone at Halloween in late October I often went down to the Tower the Cesana ridge runs clear on the glass the smoke-tree announcing our autumn in all the thickets beyond the wind-furrows oozes bright red among the oaks past my house lost beyond the slope a long narrow road on the way down the hill plunges deep with the gully below in the air the sorb now smells almost like its fruits inside my room light falls softly on the mountains only here and there is the sky still bright at this hour a bit of fog always rises when slow October changes color and becomes November's dark grey mists Urbino in the valley has few lights it passes into night and the storm gathering afar beyond these hills it's this somber weather all around it that threatens us from the various spaces a profile of grace is all that remains the water of the gully smelling fresher Used by permission of Story Line Press. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OUR AUTUMN by ELIZABETH AKERS ALLEN AN AUTUMN JOY by GEORGE ARNOLD A LEAF FALLS by MARION LOUISE BLISS THE FARMER'S BOY: AUTUMN by ROBERT BLOOMFIELD A LETTER IN OCTOBER by TED KOOSER AUTUMN EVENING by DAVID LEHMAN EVERYTHING THAT ACTS IS ACTUAL by DENISE LEVERTOV IN TIMES AND PLACES by UMBERTO PIERSANTI |
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