Light the fires

What a strange summer we've had, all a jumble of blue and grey skies, sunshine and rain, brilliance and fog, warmth and chilliness. These low grey clouds make me feel ready to prepare for hibernation: withdraw to a quieter social schedule, books, fires, poetry, melancholy music. I can never decide which I like best, summer or autumn. I think the truth is I love them both more because of each other. Summer is all heady experience and autumn is all remembrance. When the summer is closing I feel as though another year has passed...and what have I learned, how have I grown, what loves are richer? My heart feels full and prepares to sleep a bit while my mind (in the crispness of the air) takes over to process all that has happened...back to school, wool skirts, tights, fuzzy sweaters, intellectual stimulation, smoky days and early twilight. I love the line in "You've Got Mail" where Tom Hanks writes he'd buy Meg Ryan a bouquet of freshly sharpened pencils. I need to watch that again. It's one of the only "romantic comedies" that I truly like.

I took a course in Modern Poetry my first quarter at the UW and discovered my favorite poet, Denise Levertov. I recited this one in front of the class on a stormy January afternoon:

Ancient Airs and Dances

I

I knew too well

what had befallen me
when, one night, I put my lips to his wineglass

after he left -- an impulse I thought was locked away with a smile

into memory's museum.

When he took me to visit friends and the sea, he lay

asleep in the next room's dark where the fire

rustled all night; and I, from a warm bed, sleepless,

watched through the open door

that glowing hearth, and heard,

drumming the roof, the rain's

insistent heartbeat.

Greyhaired, I have not grown wiser,

unless to perceive absurdity

is wisdom. A powerless wisdom.

II

Shameless heart! Did you not vow to learn

stillness from the heron,

quiet from the mists of fall,

and from the mountain -- what was it?

Pride? Remoteness?

You have forgotten already!

And now you clamor again

like an obstinate child demanding attention,

interrupting study and contemplation.

You try my patience. Bound as we are

together for life, must you now,

so late in the day, go bounding sideways,

trying to drag me with you?

I crave a quieter life.