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Contemplative, Arna Bontemps, in English Clear filters

ContemplativeArna Bontemps

Length of Moon

Then the golden hour Will tick its last And the flame will go down in the flower. A briefer length of moon Will mark the sea-line and the yellow dune. Then we may think of this, yet There will be something forgotten And something we should forget. It will be like all things we know: The stone will fail; a rose is sure to go. It will be quiet then and we may stay As long at the picket gate But there will be less to say.
ContemplativeArna Bontemps

A Tree Design

A tree is more than a shadow Blurred against the sky, More than ink spilled on the fringe Of white clouds floating by. A tree is more than an April design Or a blighted winter bough Where love and music used to be. A tree is something in me, Very still and lonely now.
ContemplativeArna Bontemps

To a Young Girl Leaving the Hill Country

The hills are wroth; the stones have scored you bitterly Because you looked upon the naked sun Oblivious of them, because you did not see The trees you touched or mountains that you walked upon. But there will come a day of darkness in the land, A day wherein remembered sun alone comes through To mark the hills; then perhaps you’ll understand Just how it was you drew from them and they from you. For there will be a bent old woman in that day Who, feeling something of this country in her bones, Will leave her house tapping with a stick, who will (they say) Come back to seek the girl she was in these familiar stones.

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