Poet Jane Hirshfield said "... the feeling I have about poem-writing (is) that it is always an exploration, of discovering something I didn't already know.  Who I am shifts from moment to moment, year to year.  What I can perceive does as well.  A new poem peers into mystery, into whatever lies just beyond the edge of knowable ground."

I bring a different poem to the writing classes each week, not only to inspire but to introduce new poets to the group members.

Harvest Time by Olav H. Hauge

The calm days of September with their sun. 
It’s time to harvest.
There are still clumps 
of cranberries in the woods, reddening rosehips 
by the stone walls, hazelnuts coming loose, 
and clusters of blackberries shine in the bushes; 
thrushes look around for the last currents 
and wasps fasten on to the sweetening plums.
I set a ladder aside at dusk, and hang 
my basket up in the shed.  The glaciers
all have a thin sprinkling of new snow.  In bed
I hear the brisling fishermen start their motors 
and go out.  They’ll pass the whole night
gliding over the fjord behind their powerful searchlights.

~ from The Winged Energy of Delight, Selected Translations 
by Robert Bly (Perennial, 2004)


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