Jean Toomer

(26 December 1894 – 30 March 1967 / Washington D.C.)

November Cotton Flower - Poem by Jean Toomer

Boll-weevil's coming, and the winter's cold,
Made cotton-stalks look rusty, seasons old,
And cotton, scarce as any southern snow,
Was vanishing; the branch, so pinched and slow,
Failed in its function as the autumn rake;
Drouth fighting soil had caused the soil to take
All water from the streams; dead birds were found
In wells a hundred feet below the ground--
Such was the season when the flower bloomed.
Old folks were startled, and it soon assumed
Significance. Superstition saw
Something it had never seen before:
Brown eyes that loved without a trace of fear,
Beauty so sudden for that time of year.


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Read poems about / on: autumn, flower, winter, snow, beauty, water, fear, time



Poem Submitted: Monday, January 13, 2003



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