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)
