Detangling One Season From Another Poem by Susan Lacovara

Detangling One Season From Another

Rating: 4.5


While pulling weeds from a leftover summer's garden
and pelted by enemies, Autumn' s acorns
I am dusted by the dirt I've disturbed
Detangling one season, from another
Sad to see the gladiolus gone
and the creeping vines of August, exhausted...
The rude awakening that October will lead to certain frost
so wicked on my wounded bones...

But today, I will love the blowing breeze
that tosses my hair, in haphazard direction
though the sky is less than clear, my mind is cloudless
Here, among the bending branches, that offer welcome
Here, beside the promise of leaves, to mulch, to decompose,
to turn again, to push their pretty heads above to hardened ground
I know it's only time that keeps me from their hiatus beauty,
And time, I have, to wait and watch

My dog, content to lie in the hole he has dug,
rests easily, knowing I will watch the world for awhile
My afternoon energy has been depleted, but worth the effort
to feel the surrounding wind, while stepping around my everyday life
On the dry yellowing brown grass, just days ago, green...

In an old discarded clay pot, I spy a secret admirer's souvenir...
A delicate struggling stem, reaching toward the thin slice of sunlight
as it peeks out from his stowed away-stashed behind the fence locale...
To mark it's return with survival strength from last year's Sandy Storm
A flash of magenta glory...a mum, that soon, to burst into radiance
will simply be enough to fill me with wonder and appreciation
for the resilience of nature's hand...

I could nap in the calm that is this day...and delightfully so
I credit my Irish roots, for a deeply planted love of green
Most at home in the weeds and trees, the thorns and thickets,
the bramble of bushes, the shrubs and the soil...
Others flock, like pilgrims, to the ocean's edge
But I know the trails and paths in the woven woods, as my own...
and pay a poor man's homage for their lending me a lovely castle
In which I find my forest fotress...
Tired now, fingers pricked, by the detangling of the seasons
But it is a traditional task I would have no other do...
To spend the hours, helping hand, that I can gather and reap
what I have sown...so simple and sweet the reward...
aware that soon the sweeping colors will steal my heart
and the heatwave of July will be a faded, far off memory
I will search for in February's frozen earth.

POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
(10/07/13) I am never alone in the arms of Mother Nature...I so love the beautiful calm I was gifted today. If I could share it with you, somehow, through these words...that you too, might take a moment, to enjoy.....
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Anthony Burkett 02 February 2014

A fine and lovely vision of a season's faded glory... and now to winter's rest... and dreams...

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Khairul Ahsan 14 October 2013

I liked the title of the poem, specially the word 'Detangling'. 'I know it's only time that keeps me from their hiatus beauty, And time, I have, to wait and watch' You understand nature so well! 'Others flock, like pilgrims, to the ocean's edge But I know the trails and paths in the woven woods, as my own... and pay a poor man's homage for their lending me a lovely castle In which I find my forest fotress...' These lines echo my feelings. I prefer woods to oceans. About your note: Yes, you are 'never alone in the arms of Mother Nature...' and as you hoped, ' If I could share it with you, somehow, through these words...that you too, might take a moment, to enjoy.....', I am delighted to say that yes, I did enjoy, and 'loved the beautiful calm' it portrays, as if I was strolling beside you 'in the woven woods'. A beautiful poem flowing out from a sensitive and nature friendly heart.

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Sekharan Pookkat 07 October 2013

Cloudless mind welcomes seasons change And its hiatus beauty with wonder and appreciation

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