I've left tea on the outside table
a baffle for whatever wanders the woods.
Lance-shaped willow leaves fall
and alter the prescription, the drowse
of the day and the mind with confusing pall.
What lured these leaves from their mother-branch
to my poor care in the orphaned hour?
What strange embroidery can quicken them again
into their summer suits of pride and motion?
Autumn's alchemist brings gold, then lead.
Here is the potion, the breviary, the wine
fermented from pomegranates, swayed by tannins.
My faith is in teriac and the reading of leaves
in my baked clay mug and the struggling lungs
of my patients un-greening like harvested sheaves.
_________
for Sunday Muse #182.
Shay--Perfect poem for this time of year. I especially loved the lines:
ReplyDeleteWhat strange embroidery can quicken them again
into their summer suits of pride and motion?
Autumn's alchemist brings gold, then lead.
Gold... then lead. So simple and yet so eloquent.
The first word that struck me in this was 'baffle'" which sets the mood I think for a poem that is rich with metaphor and disguise. Everything combines to build a sense of mystery--the ambiguity of this intermediary that seems to preside over an antique and recondite medicine, the sense of living seasons, and all the cells within them, the alchemy of place and time, spirit and mind, shadow and dream. I love the description of the leaves, which seem as real, beloved and human as a friend's face, and the memory of their "..suits of pride and motion" when they were alive in summer's breeze. The end line of this stanza is exquisite, as are the final lines which lay the dilemma of nature's all too present disease and the remedies that cannot change it before us, and leave us with panaceas and faith to get by. Or so I read, and enjoyed every word. This one will live in my mind for a long time.
ReplyDeleteThis poem really pairs well with the image, and then pushes bravely beyond in poetic excellence! Every stanza absolutely wonderful but the last one as potent as the potions it speaks of. I am not sure if you are actually a big fan of Beth Hart, but I followed her when she had her big win on Star Search back in the 90's. I used to have a couple of her CDs. I do love her voice,!
ReplyDeleteI pictured teriac as a spirit instantly. Though, I see in this poem it works twofold. Will go and follow the rest. Keep these poems coming! They're brightening up my nights! (even though I'm an early riser, not too early, but early)
ReplyDeleteThis is so limnal and subtly wrought it is hard to write about without breaking it. What are these leaves,? Their death our salvation, sustenance? Struggling for breath, a poem that rises from the cup and pallates our lungs.
ReplyDeleteI like the idea of leaving tea outside for whatever spirits wander by.......and the tea leves reminded e how my grandma loved to look into the bottom of her cup and "read" what was there.
ReplyDeleteI love this line: "Autumn's alchemist brings gold, then lead." So good!
ReplyDeleteI find myself stopping (not permanently, but afterwards) on the word "baffle" -- to catch or to turn away? To slow whatever might drift through? The resewn leaves make for a vivid image of tea with and out of a tree...your images always slip and twist into new places.
ReplyDelete'their summer suits of pride and motion' is the phrase that leaps out to me. ~
ReplyDeletePerfectly dark in the visions it speaks of and spikes my imagination to see. Love, love, your ending. I'm feeling complete failure with my pitiful offerings for the images you gave us.
ReplyDelete