Try to remember the kind of September ...
The Old Age of Nostalgia
by Mark Strand
Those hours given over to basking in the glow of an imagined
future, of being carried away in streams of promise by a love or
a passion so strong that one felt altered forever and convinced
that even the smallest particle of the surrounding world was
charged with purpose of impossible grandeur; ah, yes, and
...
(The whole, lovely poem is here, at The Writer's Almanac.)
Laura Salas has the round up at Writing the World for Kids.
3 comments:
one would look up into the trees and be thrilled by the wind-
loosened river of pale, gold foliage cascading down and by the
high, melodious singing of countless birds
Gorgeous! I love the intensity of feeling Strand evokes. Thanks for sharing this!
This is so, so beautiful. I love that final line: "like fireflies/in the perfumed heat of summer night." I guess you know 'Eating Poetry', I think my first Strand poem that I knew. Thank you!
Karen, I have to admit I am not a fan of prosey-poems and abstract poems. But the bit
wind-
loosened river of pale, gold foliage
is maybe the most beautiful few words I've read today. And I've read a lot of words today! Thanks!
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