Poem
Lee Harwood
SEPTEMBER DUSK
BY NANT Y GEUALLT
SEPTEMBER DUSK
BY NANT Y GEUALLT
SEPTEMBER DUSK
BY NANT Y GEUALLT
The scent – bog myrtlepressed between fingers,
even brushed through when
walking across this empty valley
fenced by crags.
A flat moor – the colours muted
as dusk closes in
the red rust of grasses and bracken.
A sense of calm almost,
the silence.
No bird nor beast.
“In a remote land far from here . . .”
No, not that far
the mountains and bogs.
As though in a dream,
as though in an underworld
suspended between “life and death”
wondering
“Is this what it’s like?
it feels so good.”
But no, here and awake.
The minutes pass as
silk air wraps itself
around my head.
May my children feel this touch
one day.
© 2003, Lee Harwood
From: Collected Poems
Publisher: Shearsman Books, Exeter
From: Collected Poems
Publisher: Shearsman Books, Exeter
Lee Harwood
(United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, 1939 - 2015)
Lee Harwood’s poetry presents a haunting pleasure to the reader – images and openings for response that cohere into uniquely graceful structures of meaning and emotion. It constructs worlds for the reader to inhabit – yet also pointing to that shared world we all inhabit.
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SEPTEMBER DUSK
BY NANT Y GEUALLT
The scent – bog myrtlepressed between fingers,
even brushed through when
walking across this empty valley
fenced by crags.
A flat moor – the colours muted
as dusk closes in
the red rust of grasses and bracken.
A sense of calm almost,
the silence.
No bird nor beast.
“In a remote land far from here . . .”
No, not that far
the mountains and bogs.
As though in a dream,
as though in an underworld
suspended between “life and death”
wondering
“Is this what it’s like?
it feels so good.”
But no, here and awake.
The minutes pass as
silk air wraps itself
around my head.
May my children feel this touch
one day.
From: Collected Poems
SEPTEMBER DUSK
BY NANT Y GEUALLT
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