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Summer Carvings

For a brief moment the wind rises
violently
out of the garden,
alleviates the heat and lifts the gnats
off my skin

The Wild-Wife passes me
up the alley,
on her way back from the mailbox
down by the country road,
empty-handed

The book of poetry I just picked up
at the country store,
delivered from Amazon,
lies on my lap,
ready to speak:
Helen Macdonald's Shaler's Fish

A very old man sits in the house;
the Wild-Wife's father,
a gentle, soft-spoken fellow, visiting;
his DNA performing wonders
down three off-springs: Anna, Anders, Kristina

This day is an idealized version
of the summers of mankind;
the wind falling and rising through the birches,
through the grass,
making the world whisper and gleam,
the birds mostly fallen silent
after the Midsummer passage,
with a few still chirping here and there,
making sure life remains spatial
and four-dimensional

The world ages,
tightly attached to my skin
on all sides,
but renews itself

My body ages,
but my thoughts are renewed

I become more the world,
while my thoughts veer off,
becoming sharp and surprising,
like swifts shooting
'round the bastions of Savonlinna
in a former love-life

I take care to notice,
make sure not to not see

Synchronicity makes the unrelated relate
in my notes and days,
as all days meet in this day,
in the wind that falls and rises;
the Wild-Wife walking around the farm
up on the hill,
tending to farm matters;
her old father taking an afternoon nap
inside the house,
reminding me of a Neil Young song,
me sitting on a plastic garden chair
in the warm wind outside the house,
by the path leading through the birch alley
down to the country road,
letting thoughts wander as they may,
some getting caught on the pages of the notebook,
as life passes through me,
through the garden,
through the forest 'round the farm,
through the Wild-Wife
and through her old dad
inside the house,
for a while longer,
yes, for a while longer

The sun shines through petals,
the world strokes my sentience;
lost and forgotten hum
in the foliages




Fri vers (Fri form) av Ingvar Loco Nordin VIP
Läst 18 gånger
Publicerad 2022-06-28 17:53



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