Just when I’ve learnt to read the landscape carefully:
the flight of birds and growth of plants,
the arrangement of furrowed fields and coppiced hedges;
now that I’ve mastered its punctuation with quiet glee:
the question mark of church, comma of farmhouse,
full stop of village and parentheses of trees;
nature spills her evening ink across the hills and leas,
over sleepy horses, sheep and cows,
drips shapeless shadows into night and dreams.
Kim M. Russell, 27th July 2019
My poem for Imaginary Garden with Real Toads Weekend Mini Challenge: Let Evening Come, also linked to Poets United Poetry Pantry
I’m hosting at the Imaginary Garden this weekend with pastoral poems, based on a poem I found in The Making of a Poem, the Norton Anthology of Poetic Forms. The poem is ‘Let Evening Come’ by Jane Kenyon. In the prompt, I explain that I love that this poem is a pastoral poem on the surface, with imagery taken from a typical rural scene, but when you discover that the poem alludes to the creeping cancer that took the life of the poet’s friend, and find out also that the poet was bipolar, it takes on new meanings.
This weekend, we are writing new pastoral poems about evening, the shift from late afternoon through twilight to the black shed of night, following the format of Jane Kenyon’s poem, but no more than six tercets.