My Mother Left Me the Sun(edit 1)

[TranquillityBase]

In these waning days

of summer, I casually lay

in the shade of live oak;

through leaves fractured 

sun’s glitter on whose face

I draw still a mother’s smile,  my only suggestion; the rest should be left alone

 

your smile; always the sun

you chased as Icarus wanting

absolution from consideration

of who else might fall.  What              lovely and inspiring stream of words here

does a mother owe her children?      good question

 

The same, I guess, as due

of them when they savage

into the world having hearts 

long traded. Yours was                   another lovely stream of words; not Stevenson, this is your voice; I can tell, coz I'm telepathic; good answer to the question

 

an aurora of autumn prismed

from green to yellow to orange,

then the sun’s red fire.  Death is

the mother of Beauty.  I hear           no need for the spoiler for anyone who has read Stevens; if they haven't, that's their look out

 

with a breeze the song of the winter 

wren- undulating, high and long           Stevens loves the word "undulating"

but that is no more

than the echo of an earlier spring.

 

I must be content living in memory,   "am" (well, one more itty bitty suggestion)

evening’s clouds having gathered;

their laughter galloping    maybe one more suggestion, "galloping" seems too active for drifting clouds
horizon to horizon.

Bryn,

The whole thing is beautiful.  It feels like you've set yourself free to go wild and wanton with your language in a good and productive way.  No shame in channeling Stevens or any other poet, in my not so humble opinion.  It was a real pleasure to wake up to this.  I tremble to think that other critiques may lead you to alter it.  But I guess that's none of my business, verdad?

Why does this damn software insert double spacing?  not my doing!

TqB