Sandra Gilbert, "Afternoon Walk: The Sea Ranch"

Late light, uneven mole-gnawed meadow,
gullies, freshets, falls, whose start and speckle
Hopkins would have loved — and you — you too,
who loved the sheen and shade, the forest dapple
where grass meets cypress just beyond the house —
you’d praise the mushroom-sprout, the chilly glisten
as the hedgerow folds into the solstice
and suddenly the last crisp leaves unfasten.

This time of year, this place, light dims at the pace
of a long late afternoon walk, light seems to slow
and sorrow as the meadow turns its face
into your unlived season, the winter hollow
where only a steep sky, in quarter inches,
adjusts descending sun, ascending branches.

      — In memory of E.L.G.




Sandra Gilbert