morning poem

 

solace

my window opens out into the trees

and in that small space

of branches and of sky

i see the seasons pass

behold the tender green

give way to darker heavier leaves.

the glory of the autumn comes

when steeped in mellow sunlight

the fragile, golden leaves

against a clear blue sky

linger in the magic of the afternoon

and then reluctantly break off

and filter down to pave

a street with gold.

then bare, grey branches

lift themselves against the

cold december sky

sometimes weaving a web

across the rose and dusk of late sunset

sometimes against a frail new moon

and one bright star riding

a sky of that dark, living blue

which comes before the heaviness

of night descends, or the stars

have powdered the heavens.

winds beat against these trees;

the cold, but gentle rain of spring

touches them lightly

the summer torrents strive

to lash them into a fury

and seek to break them--

but they stand.

my life is fevered

and a restlessness at times

an agony--again a vague

and baffling discontent

possesses me.

i am thankful for my bit of sky

and trees, and for the shifting 

pageant of the seasons.

such beauty lays upon the heart

a quiet.

such eternal change and permanence

take meaning from all turmoil

and leave serenity

which knows no pain.

by clarissa scott delany (1901-1927)