Autumn Comedy

  --after the Finnish of Risto Rasa

I was cloudy all day:
I had clouds in the bones…
There were clouds

In the tissues of my hands.
“This is not so hard,” I thought.
“I can stand in the orchard

With no more hope
Than my old horse.”
The clouds were fast!

And then I was chewing
A windfall apple
And planning my sainthood…

Comments

[Boyd W. Benson]

I love this, how its moods and textures swing and shift across its little sky "with no more hope than my old horse." And they change so "fast!"

We should all take a moment to embrace our cloudiness -- that is, before we're on to other things. Sainthood and such. Yes, beautiful