A Summer Poem

As the lazy days of summer prepare to yield to Fall, and lovers of God listen for His presence in the daily miracle of life, this poem captures the exhiliration over the simple things.

(For a truly delightful experience, read it while listening to “The Warmth Of The Sun/Surfer Girl,” by Philip Aaberg & Scott Mathews (1997) on the Windham Hill, Summer Solstice CD,

Poem: “Summer Morning,” by Charles Simic from Selected Poems 1963-83 (George Braziller)

Summer Morning
I love to stay in bed
All morning,
Covers thrown off, naked,
Eyes closed, listening.

Outside they are opening
Their primers
In the little school
Of the corn field.

There’s a smell of damp hay,
Of horses, laziness,
Summer sky and eternal life.

I know all the dark places
Where the sun hasn’t reached yet,
Where the last cricket
Has just hushed; anthills
Where it sounds like it’s raining;
Slumbering spiders spinning wedding dresses.

I pass over the farmhouses
Where the little mouths open to suck,
Barnyards where a man, naked to the waist,
Washes his face and shoulders with a hose,
Where the dishes begin to rattle in the kitchen.

The good tree with its voice
Of a mountain stream
Knows my steps.
It, too, hushes.

I stop and listen:
Somewhere close by
A stone cracks a knuckle,
Another rolls over in its sleep.

I hear a butterfly stirring
Inside a caterpillar,
I hear the dust talking
Of last night’s storm.

Further ahead, someone
Even more silent
Passes over the grass
Without bending it.

And all of a sudden!
In the midst of that quiet,
It seems possible
To live simply on this earth.

‚© Charles Simic

Posted in Staublog, Thoughts in August 18, 2003 by | No Comments »

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