Monday, November 18, 2013

365 Poems: Afterwards

Day 322

Storm watch. Wind warning. Alarms and sirens. What comes from the west? "Destroyer and preserver, wild spirit": Shelley's poem. I think he would have been very at home in Fort Wayne today:

O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being, 
Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead 
Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing, 

Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red, 
Pestilence-stricken multitudes: O thou, 
Who chariotest to their dark wintry bed 

The wingèd seeds, where they lie cold and low, 
Each like a corpse within its grave,until 
Thine azure sister of the Spring shall blow 

Her clarion o'er the dreaming earth, and fill 
(Driving sweet buds like flocks to feed in air) 
With living hues and odours plain and hill: 
Wild Spirit, which art moving everywhere; 
Destroyer and Preserver; hear, O hear! -
(Read it all)

Today felt like spring. Shelley would have recognized that, too:
The trumpet of a prophecy! O Wind,
If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?

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