March 16: Memory and Time and Beauty, W. S. Merwin, "After the Dragonflies"

Yesterday, the great poet W. S. Merwin passed away at the age of 91.  He was the same age as my father, born in the same year.

Therefore, today, I want to honor him.  Share a poem about memory and time and beauty.  

Saint Marty sees dragonflies all the time still.  Thank God.

After the Dragonflies

by:  W. S. Merwin

Dragonflies were as common as sunlight

hovering in their own days

backward forward and sideways

as though they were memory

now there are grown-ups hurrying

who never saw one

and do not know what they 

are not seeing

the veins in a dragonfly's wings

were made of light

the veins in the leaves knew them

and the flowing rivers

the dragonflies came out of the color of water

knowing their own way

when we appeared in their eyes

we were strangers

they took their light with them when they went

there will be no one to remember us

December 29: Hopes for the New Year, W. S. Merwin, "To the New Year"

I have hopes for the New Year.  I hope for health and happiness.  For the safety and happiness of my wife and children and friends.  Success in my writing and work and teaching.  Cheesecake.  I hope for cheesecake.  And maybe a few good poems.

Saint Marty wishes for running water and little snow tomorrow morning.

To the New Year

by:  W. S. Merwin

With what stillness at last

you appear in the valley

your first sunlight reaching down

to touch the tips of a few

high leaves that do not stir

as though they had not noticed

and did not know you at all

then the voice of a dove calls

from far away in itself

to the hush of the morning

so this is the sound of you

here and now whether or not

anyone hears it this is

where we have come with our age

our knowledge such as it is

and our hopes such as they are

invisible before us

untouched and still possible

January 5: Cold and Gray, W. S. Merwin, "To the New Year"

The first few days of 2017 have been cold and gray in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan.  Today, the official high temperature was 2 degrees.  Not much warmer tomorrow.

Saint Marty has a another New Year poem for this January night, five days after the end of 2016.  Hoping for sunlight and the blush of morning.

To the New Year

by:  W. S, Merwin

With what stillness at last

you appear in the valley

your first sunlight reaching down

to touch the tips of a few

high leaves that do not stir

as though they had not noticed

and did not know you at all

then the voice of a dove calls

from far away in itself

to the hush of the morning

so this is the sound of you

here and now whether or not

anyone hears it this is

where we have come with our age

our knowledge such as it is

and our hopes such as they are

invisible before us

untouched and still possible