My Mother Left Me the Sun(edit 1)

[brynmawr1]

brynmawr1,

Wow. This is beautiful. There's not much that I can say or even really want to say. I'll try.

In these waning days Nice opener that sets the tone. The N feels something in or around them changing, not fading.

of summer, I casually lay

in the shade of live oak; What I get from this: there's a cheerful indifference to and yet an acknowledgment of change protected by the things that have been changed or are changing. For a moment I forgot this poem was titled "My Mother Left Me the Sun" and what I extracted from this image sounds like a child humbly praising their parent, which is nice.        

through leaves fractured 

sun’s glitter on whose face It hurts to point out because I am enjoying how the language sounds, I'm not sure if "glitter" is being used as a noun or a verb.  I guess I'm not surprised.  I purposely made the language a little tight here but worried that the syntax would get muddled.  I might need to add a little punctuation to clarify.  But to answer your question, meant to be a noun.

I draw still a mother’s smile,



your smile; always the sun

you chased as Icarus wanting

absolution from consideration

of who else might fall.  What

does a mother owe her children?

 

The same, I guess, as due

of them when they savage

into the world having hearts I typically have doubts when abstractions like "hearts" are used, but the way it's used here makes it still a part of an interesting puzzle to solve. This tells me that I'm in good hands.

long traded. Yours was

 

an aurora of autumn prismed

from green to yellow to orange,

then the sun’s red fire.  Death is Very psychedelic sequence that I think is permitted by a nice use of the verb "prismed". It effectively describes color and movement.

the mother of Beauty.  I hear

 

with a breeze the song of the winter 

wren- undulating, high and long not only is this a nice appeal to the sense of hearing but also sense of touch. I can feel the wind gently guiding the trill into my ear.

but that is no more

than the echo of an earlier spring.

 

I must be content living in memory, This transition into the future is done beautifully with the stanza before it being a fine segue, appealing first to sound (the birdcall).

evening’s clouds having gathered;

their laughter galloping At this point I'm guessing "their" refers to both the mother and child's laughter, which is heartbreaking. Interesting to think about how these moments travel here and there on hooves. Either way, the knee jerk image is a band of wild horses just running freely wherever.

horizon to horizon.

This poem was very different before TqB introduced me to Wallace Stevens and then rowens posted the class on "Auras of Autumn" which heavily influenced S4.  I also added a link to the song of the winter wren with a cool visual depiction of the call

Thank you for sharing.

AR

hey AR,
Thanks for reading and commenting.  Reading your interpretations of different parts is really helpful.  Especially the last stanza.  not entirely what I necessarily intended but liked what you came away with and it was the overall feeling I wanted to convey.
I look forward to reading your next posting.
bryn