Reading Time

[Pop-pop !!sKhVd0ugY0U No.17065025]

Good evening friends of /lit/. It's time to read you all a poem before bed. These winter days often set the stage for meditating on memories of times past.

Here's a poem by William Morris Meredith Jr. He was an American poet and educator was the Poet Laureate Consultant for a time in the '70s.

Winter Verse for His Sister

Moonlight washes the west side of the house
As clean as bone, it carpets like a lawn
The stubbled field tilted eastward
Where there is no sign yet of dawn.
The moon is an angel with a bright light sent
To surprise me once before I die
With the real aspect of things.
It holds the light steady and makes no comment.

Practicing for death I have lately gone
To that other house
Where our parents did most of their dying,
Embracing and not embracing their conditions.
Our father built bookcases and little by little stopped reading,
Our mother cooked proud meals for common mouths.
Kindly, they raised two children. We raked their leaves
And cut their grass, we ate and drank with them.
Reconciliation was our long work, not all of it joyful.

Now outside my own house at a cold hour
I watch the noncommittal angel lower
The steady lantern that's worn these clapboards thin
In a wash of moonlight, while men slept within,
Accepting and not accepting their conditions,
And the fingers of trees plied a deep carpet of decay
On the gravel web underneath the field,
And the field tilting always toward day.


Good night friends, and sleep well.


On another note, if any of you are are artists out there, it would be nice to have a unique drawing for these threads. I was thinking of a drawing of an elderly apu reading to his grandchildren. If any of you are up to the drawing challenge please have at it!

[Anonymous No.17065028]

>>17065025
Thank you, Pop-pop. Another lovely poem and a very nice thread. I can't draw, unfortunately, but I hope someone else can. Have a good sleep.

[Anonymous No.17066025]

>>17065025
Thank you for this poem!