A Twilight Moon above Pickerel Lake

Today was a  gorgeous, sunny autumnal extravaganza.
Sky, clouds and trees always give me such pleasure!
I just read David Lehman's book of daily poems, and it made me realize again
how difficult projects like this are, and what a genius Frank O'Hara was!

I would like to write a daily poem, but really doubt I would keep it up.
I have astonished myself with
the blog since this January First,
but I quite fear I am in danger of repeating myself.

Adam Zagajewski loves the earth, too. Here is another poem from Canvas, page 14.

Sails

There were evenings, as scarlet as Phoenician sails,
that soaked up the light and the air; I was suddenly nearly gasping;
for breath, blinded by the slanted rays
of the somnolent sun. This is how epochs end, I thought,
how overloaded ships sink, how the eyelids
of old theaters droop, and what's left is dust, smoke,
sharp stones underfoot, and fear looking like
joy, and the end, which is tranquility.

Soon enough, though, it turns out to be only another
dress rehearsal, one more frantic improvisation:
the extras go home, swallows fall asleep
in precarious nests, the provincial
moon timidly slips into place,
robbers steal wigs, a priest writes to his mother.

How patiently you prepare and enure us,
what time you lavish on us,
what a teacher of history you are, Earth!

                     ----Adam Zagajewski

                    ********************

Once again, this poet mixes BIG THOUGHT with the small things, like the nesting swallows
and with the big things like scarlet skies. If you think this is easy, you should try it for yourself.
His motions of thought are so graceful, that I am inspired to try again. Good Night, it is almost November!