“winter tucks her children in, her fragile china dolls / but my hands remember hers”

[larryhammer]

For Poetry Monday, a jump back in season:


Kyoto: March, Gary Snyder

A few light flakes of snow
Fall in the feeble sun;
Birds sing in the cold,
A warbler by the wall. The plum
Buds tight and chill soon bloom.
The moon begins first
Fourth, a faint slice west
At nightfall. Jupiter half-way
High at the end of night-
Meditation. The dove cry
Twangs like a bow.
At dawn Mt. Hiei dusted white
On top; in the clear air
Folds of all the gullied green
Hills around the town are sharp,
Breath stings. Beneath the roofs
Of frosty houses
Lovers part, from tangle warm
Of gentle bodies under quilt
And crack the icy water to the face
And wake and feed the children
And grandchildren that they love.


I love the weaving through of traditional Japanese poetic imagery into something new. I did not post this in March because I was out at sea; now, though, it's a nice reminder of a cooler time and climate. And a somewhat bittersweet one of when Japanese was my current language being learned.

---L.

Subject quote from Passing Afternoon, Iron & Wine.

Comments

[sovay]

And wake and feed the children
And grandchildren that they love.

That's lovely.

[larryhammer]

Yes it is. Nailed that ending.

[asakiyume]

It's a lovely poem--I like how it goes from the natural world to the human one.

[larryhammer]

Indeed.

[pseudo_tsuga]

That's so lovely, especially the imagery. I've even copied it to my poem notebook.

[larryhammer]

:-)