This is so precise and painful and elegant. I find it hard to say anything
which the poem does not already say or hint at.A pleasant start to my day,
which will be just that bit brighter. Thanks.
----- Original Message -----
From: "Sue Scalf" <[log in to unmask]>
To: <[log in to unmask]>
Sent: Saturday, January 19, 2002 4:40 AM
Subject: newish: Love Out of Season, Out of Time


> Your comments are welcome and appreciated!
>
> Love Out of Time, Out of Season
>
>
> When poetry won't come
> and words lie heavy
> like the pain of an old wound
> that aches again,
> or there seems reason
> not to say what can't be said,
> or reticence puts its finger on the lips,
> think of this, my friend:
> remember the fountain,
> how water splashed and played,
>
> made thin cascades of sound,
> and all around, moon -lamps
> made larger moons
> than the small one
> hooked above upon a cloud
> in a sky, cerulean, rain-clean.
> A poem waited in the broken branch
> of a pear tree, a scepter of blossoms,
> wet and frothy with spring.
>
> But what was there to say?
> Life determines what limb will break
> and who shall love
> or never will,
> the vagaries of time and place,
> seasons out of season,
> the places we visit but never belong---
>
> all this perhaps or just some little wisp of song
> like a whistle in the night
> when someone walks down a dark street,
> hands in his pockets,
> and sees pear trees in rain.
> Write that one. Write it for me.
>
> Sue Scalf
>
> http://www.members.aol.com/poetscalf