On the last day of June . . . a poem by Milton Acorn:
Poem in June
A breeze wipes creases off my forehead
and my trees lean into summer,
putting on for dresses,
day-weave,
ray-weave, sap's green nakedness.
Hushtime of the singers;
wing-time, worm-time
for the squab with its crooked neck and purse-wide beak.
(On wave-blown alfalfa, a hawk-shadow's coasting.)
As a sail fills and bounds with its business of wind,
my trees lean into summer.
2 scribble(s) in the margin:
"My trees lean into summer." What a perfectly beautiful line: spare, evocative and descriptive all at once.
Yes, it's so lovely. I particularly like the line "Hushtime of the singers" as well.
Post a Comment