Wednesday, January 8, 2014

the morning air is all awash with angels

Love Calls Us to the Things of This World
The eyes open to a cry of pulleys,
And spirited from sleep, the astounded soul   
Hangs for a moment bodiless and simple   
As false dawn.
                     Outside the open window   
The morning air is all awash with angels.

    Some are in bed-sheets, some are in blouses,   
Some are in smocks: but truly there they are.   
Now they are rising together in calm swells   
Of halcyon feeling, filling whatever they wear   
With the deep joy of their impersonal breathing;

    Now they are flying in place, conveying
The terrible speed of their omnipresence, moving   
And staying like white water; and now of a sudden   
They swoon down into so rapt a quiet
That nobody seems to be there.
                                             The soul shrinks

    From all that it is about to remember,
From the punctual rape of every blessèd day,
And cries,
               “Oh, let there be nothing on earth but laundry,   
Nothing but rosy hands in the rising steam
And clear dances done in the sight of heaven.”

    Yet, as the sun acknowledges
With a warm look the world’s hunks and colors,   
The soul descends once more in bitter love   
To accept the waking body, saying now
In a changed voice as the man yawns and rises,   
    “Bring them down from their ruddy gallows;
Let there be clean linen for the backs of thieves;   
Let lovers go fresh and sweet to be undone,   
And the heaviest nuns walk in a pure floating   
Of dark habits,
                      keeping their difficult balance.”


Kamana said...

the morning is the best time

S. Etole said...

Such a beautiful scene. The poem requires some pondering.

Loree said...

Beautiful. It made me sigh :)

Nancy said...

Hi Leslie....gorgeous shot and I am with Susan...I need to ponder on the poem for a while.....

♥ tinyWOOLF ♥ said...

poems such as this one make me blush inside, stall me in my own capacity tracks even. for indeed, this is deep and needs infusion, like our teas-on-porches.
i like it you know me a little.

such a comforting thought too we should be watching tree shadows together, both from our respective posts... isn't that romantic?