They say only the south wind flattens grass

Not from the sunshine,
late in September,
not from the rains of October
and though moonlight
might brighten November
or the cold of December
that covers the lake
with its first paper-thin ice
the grass still stands
withered, unyielding
till it’s covered with snow;
and not until thawing in March
it lay flattened in awe
for the new grass of spring,
like the old man in silence
admiring the giggling of youth.

Four Ages in Life by
Edvard Munch

Today Sarah hosts at dVerse and she has given us a few titles to chose from to write our own poems.

December 1, 2020

23 responses to “They say only the south wind flattens grass

  1. This is absolutely stellar writing, Bjorn! 😀 I love the idea of “the new grass of spring, like the old man in silence admiring the giggling of youth.” ❤️

  2. Three of us have chosen this title already and I expect there will be more, and all different – it’s a great title to play with. I love what you have taken from the title and how you’ve developed it into a wonderful winter scene, Björn. I imagined the lake covered ‘with its first paper-thin ice’ and the grass ‘withered, unyielding / till it’s covered with snow’.

  3. I agree with Sarah, Bjorn. Your poem is stunning. One helluva poem, and such a fine focus on humble grass, which is so often tread upon and overlooked.

  4. Wow, that image of the grass which ‘lay flattened in awe
    for the new grass of spring’ – you turned the title into a wonderful extended metaphor, and picked the perfect image to match!

  5. I like your description of the grass of spring. So true, and something to be learned from it, no doubt.

  6. We’re not far, here, from that 1st paper-thin ice, Bjorn. This piece is killer-diller. It IS amazing how different the responses to a single prompt, eh? Well done!

  7. the whole gamut of the year hear with those remarkable end lines – the old year reminds me of Eliot’s ‘Gerontion
    “Here I am, an old man in a dry month,
    Being read to by a boy, waiting for rain.”

  8. Wonderful. I can see it, flattened, waiting for the sun to warm it so it can straighten up. It is always lovely to read you. I have been quiet, under the weight of things. It is nice to read and write poetry again.

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