November for Beginnners
Snow would be the easy
way out—that softening
sky like a sigh of relief
at finally being allowed
to yield. No dice.
We stack twigs for burning
in glistening patches
but the rain won’t give.
So we wait, breeding
mood, making music
of decline. We sit down
in the smell of the past
and rise in a light
that is already leaving.
We ache in secret,
memorizing
a gloomy line
or two of German.
When spring comes
we promise to act
the fool. Pour,
rain! Sail, wind,
with your cargo of zithers!
November 1981
by Rita Dove
2 comments:
It is a gloomy day here, this Election Day, and I resonate with these photos. And the poem is perfect for November, and, I imagine, resonates with the mood of someone standing on the outside of all of the action (although it is so strange to me that you cannot vote, after all of your years here, and raising your children here). I needed poetry and something just human and grounded like these images today to soothe my soul so I'm glad you chose to post this on a Tuesday.
I love the "gloomy lines" in the photos, i.e. the reflections of the wires in the puddles. I love the way the words and the pictures just say the same poem.
And I relate so much to this feeling of non-belonging, even if being in the middle of it all... Sigh. I guess love is always homeless, and living in another country just makes it more evident.
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