Monday, April 22, 2013

All the Day

all the day she gathered
long-leafed grasses
up and down the worn path
from bluff to seashore

she found the saw-edged sedges
and plaited them together
until they sang to her
a song of morning

these she wove into the eastern side
of a plain four-sided house
for the dawn breeze to hum through
as the sun rises

from the bright field she cut
the summer grasses
heads heavy with seeds
and sang of long days and short nights

until they were woven into the northern wall
and when the winter wind blew
they rattled and crackled
their song of life

the soft dark-green of spring
was taken from under the oak
just beyond the pond
and she wove those fronds

with strong breezes and twine
tethered to earth— a sky-soaring diamond
in the southern-most wall
and it sighed with hope

the western wall had no grass
only an open window
there she leans out and watches
for the evening falling toward her

Pamela Olson

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