16 September 2010

Imperfect Prose - Unpreservable

It is time again
for the gathering in
vegetables frozen
or transformed
into salsas
jellies, jams
baked into sweet breads
and pies.

Try as we might
we cannot preserve
the days
the fleeting days
of Summer.

What we save
is memories
on pantry shelves
or words on crisp pages
of journals.

Branches grow bare
as leaves scatter
and gather
and scatter again.

Perhaps I'll pluck some
from the ground
before the snow
and use them to mark pages
in books
that speak
summer tales.



Join Emily at In the Hush of the Moon for more prose, however imperfect.

6 comments:

emily wierenga said...

Try as we might
we cannot preserve
the days
the fleeting days
of Summer.

LOVED this... and the thought of placing leaves in books... which i actually do... oh friend, you've done it. you've preserved it through this poem. thank you for this beautiful link... i love visiting your restful place, here. it's a holy place... e.

signed...bkm said...

these is beautiful....we have so much to be thankful for....blessings..bkm

Michael Perkins said...

you have such a gift.

thank you for sharing this.

Carrie Burtt said...

This whole poem and the thoughts that come with it are wonderful...:-)

Faith Hope Cherrytea ~ said...

lovely !
it seem you're quite ahead of us with the barrenness ~ ours are just beginning to turn. i will be gathering berried branches to save..

Sandra Heska King said...

Lovely.

And barrenness will birth bounty again.

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