September Grace

sept grace

As the day ends, the sun spreads it wings

sailing west over the granite hills

and coastal village.

 

The first light and the last light

(one in the same )

falls through the pine branches

and the hands of those praying

 

at the table, in the garden

or on a fishing boat this hour.

Its soft brightness pulsates

a number of times. For some

it is seven, the seven sorrows

of Mary,

 

Her beautiful head

bows in the church window.

Her blue veil seen

from the close distance

 

of an old fountain

with its  stone chipped

and gauzed in spider’s silk,

( all the water drained)

 

or the dock further down

jutting into the river

with its wood splintered

and leaves floating green

and gold as vinegar in the shallows.

4 comments

  1. Wendy,

    You weave contrasts into likenesses with a fluid skill that builds energy.

    granite hills and villages
    first light and last light
    pine branches and praying hands
    garden and fishing boat
    soft and brightness
    close and distance
    chipped stone and spider web
    splintered wood and leaves
    green and vinegar

    You turn those differences into likenesses. The sounds and shades of meaning
    create a gentle air…or as you have so aptly titled this one…”September Grace”
    You have personified the season, and captured its essence with your poem. As
    always you give us top shelf that calls us back again and again.

    Thank you!

    Sarah

    Like

  2. Dear Sarah

    So glad you enjoyed this one; and thank you for that lovely comment on the texture of this poem! You made my day and I appreciate it so much!

    Dear Maryse

    That is a beautiful statue of The Holy Mother. I love the way you opens her arms and invite you into her holy world and heart. Thank, too, for the lovely words on this poem. I am glad you could relate!

    My best to you both
    please take care
    Wendy

    Like

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