Valley Time
Easterly,
the winds tease the sun
toward morning
brushing aside the easy showers
of early summer clouds.
Time follows the way of the wind
through this dawn-misted valley,
filters through the blue unfoldings
of fragile morning chicory,
flows through the slow, green seekings
of those low growing vines,
breathes honeysuckle and wildrose rain
into the season’s drifting light.
Westward,
the sun leaves the high horizon,
draping a dry autumn night
over the tired faces
of September sunflowers.
© Elaine Frankonis
love it
Thanks. It’s a 35 year old poem, but it works for the Pioneer Valley, too.
Wonderful Elaine. I would not have thought it was one of your oldies. I pictured the woods in back of the house. B
Yes, it reminded me of that, tool
Wow! What a compliment. I love Mary Oliver.
Evokes Mary Oliver!