As a man and woman make
a garden between them like
a bed of stars, here
they linger in the summer evening
and the evening turns
cold with their terror: it
could all end, it is capable
of devastation. All, all
can be lost, through scented air
the narrow columns
uselessly rising, and beyond,
a churning sea of poppies–
Hush, beloved. It doesn’t matter to me
how many summers I live to return:
this one summer we have entered eternity.
I felt your two hands
bury me to release its splendor.
(Louise Gluck)
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Based on Topics: Man Poems, Summer Poems, Eternity Poems, Garden PoemsBased on Keywords: summers, splendor, poppies, columns, capable, devastation, churning, uselessly