Friday, August 19, 2011

Poetry Friday: Mother, Summer, I




My mother, who hates thunder storms,
Holds up each summer day and shakes
It out suspiciously, lest swarms
Of grape-dark clouds are lurking there;
But when the August weather breaks
And rains begin, and brittle frost
Sharpens the bird-abandoned air,
Her worried summer look is lost,

And I her son, though summer-born
And summer-loving, none the less
Am easier when the leaves are gone
Too often summer days appear
Emblems of perfect happiness
I can't confront: I must await
A time less bold, less rich, less clear:
An autumn more appropriate.

                              -- Philip Larkin, from Collected Poems

 
Poetry Friday is being hosted by Doraine Bennett over at Dori Reads. Rumble on over!


 

6 comments:

I'm Jet . . . said...

testing the comments link.

Mur said...

Perfect for an end-of-summer day.

Andy said...

"My mother, who hates thunder storms,
Holds up each summer day and shakes
It out suspiciously, lest swarms
Of grape-dark clouds are lurking there;"

Distant thunder is getting closer as we speak. Perfect!

Doraine Bennett said...

"...an autumn more appropriate." I love that line. Yes, perfect as temperatures here in the deep South begin to drop, at least at night.

Teena in Toronto said...

Happy blogoversary :)

Diane Mayr said...

Teena, thanks for the "happy blogoversary" message--we're a little slow this Sunday morning in acknowledging the day!