Returning from the County Fair,
We were chased home
By the recent risen moon
Large as a house and ocherous as a ripened gourd
And by a cold front charging over the edge of the Caprock,
Rushing autumn upon us.
As clouds arrived, rain smacked against the car like hail.
Still dizzy from ferris wheel and roller-coaster rides
And ready to snuggle into cotton candy dreams,
At last we reached home
To find the wind had wrestled with our peach trees,
Making them loose their grip
On fistfuls of fruit.
Now littering the ground
Were the bruised fragrant orbs -
Some soft as mud, already making jam,
Some firm, partly green.
The velvety globes had to be gathered
In bushel baskets to arrest any further damage.
Hours later collapsing from exhaustion,
We tumbled into pink dreams
Perfumed with sweat and peaches.
And in my sleep, I was plumped on piles
Of that fuzz plucked from the skins
Like down from goslings;
A dream suffused with light from that Harvest Moon.
Another lovely one, Lillian. Was it meant to be a little 'hommage' to Eliot in the first stanza ('Summer surprised us, coming over the Starnbergersee') , or was it an unconscious echo?
If stones are meant to perish the liveliness one feels after a pleasant dream, it will surely ripple.......
What a wonderful title, Lillian, with an interesting question. Dreams are reflection of our daily life activities and it is apparent that the rippling phonomenon is a part of our life creating turbulance and causing hindrances in our streamline contemplations. The fluency and ecstasy or a dream is badly affected by ripples and can overwhelm the overall personality of a human being if one is prone to sensitivity.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I love the title of this one, Lillian. This wonderful piece appeals to all the senses. I can see, smell and feel those 'fragrant orbs', and only wish that I was 'plumped on piles / Of that fuzz plucked from the skins' - magnificent! S :)