Friday, November 04, 2005
Whose pipes sing far and high
With plaintive song for summers gone–
Regards an empty sky.
Bright feathers flew for distant lands,
But where did not confide;
The lonely meadow understands
That here she must abide.
The trees have long since shed their gloves,
Gaunt fingers now revealed;
The wild wind whispers of her loves
To taunt the barren field.
The patient land awaits the frost
Foretelling winter snows;
The meadow mourns her flowers lost,
And soon will dreamless doze.
The Piper at the gates of dawn
Whose pipes sing soft for me
Plays low and long for summers gone
In wistful minor key.
© 2005 Jeffrey Hull
Technically, I'd leave out ('scuse the pun) the gloves/gaunt fingers metaphor. Oh, it's a very nice one, but it distracts from the focus of the poem, which is repeatedly on the lovelorn land and the patient counsel of seasonal wisdom. There's nothing/no one for those gaunt fingers to point to as it is.
Perhaps if you coupled the nude limbs with their absence of summer song birds...
...you know me. I mostly critique where I feel there's real strength being weakened somehow.
Regarding empty sky:
scroll down to where it promises to play music. Recapture youthful wanderlust.
Van Morrisson uses the line in a song he recorded called,.........................Nuts! I forgot. Well, it's still a wonderful poem Jeff!