November reveals hidden things: the true contours of trees, the river out beyond the saplings fringing our back yard, abandoned bird’s nests — this one woven with plastic streamers stolen from my daughter’s bike handlebars. (No Roses for Harry, anyone?) Something about November strips bare the inner world too, and encourages the shedding of illusions.
This brief, simple poem by Tess Gallagher seems perfect, with its acknowledgment that the revelations of November can alter the outlook in more ways that we realize:
I go to the mountain sideof the house to cut saplings,and clear a view to snowon the mountain. But when I look up,saw in hand, I see a nest…
The rest of “Choices” is here. Poetry Friday is at Yat-Yee Chong today.
What a lovely poem. You’re so right about November. Glad to hear all technical difficulties have been corrected!
Thanks, jama… I actually attempted my own November poem, but I think I need to move a little way past this month before I’m capable of anything more than the rhythmical creation of self-pity.
“Something about November strips bare the inner world too, and encourages the shedding of illusions.” I never thought of it that way. I love the fall colors but really have trouble withe the barrenness of the landscape once the leaves are gone. I’ll have to think about this angle.
It’s a beautiful poem and new to me. Thanks! Something about it reminds me of the Jane Hirshfield poem, “Vilnius.”
She writes, “If you lived higher up on the mountain,/ I find myself thinking, what you would see is/ more of everything else, but not the mountain.”
“Vilnius” sounds lovely… Thanks for the tip! I’m going to find a copy and read the rest of it.
Ahhh…the view is wherever we look most closely. Yes.
That’s lovely, Janet. I also like the image of the nest woven with the ribbons from the bike. That’s lovely, too. When I was a teenager, we had a big fluffy white dog, and the birds used her shedded hair in their nests. Fleece-lined!
You can see a river from your yard? How wonderful that must be.