It
seems like a good day to resurrect a poem that appeared in a slightly different form in my 2004
collection We Build Temples in the Heart published by Beacon Press, Boston.
The
poem came to me early one morning on my daily
walk from the Metra train station
in Cary, Illinois to Briargate
Elementary School where I was the Head
Custodian. After I opened the building and classrooms
and hoisted the Flag outside, I grabbed a cup of bad coffee in the Teachers’
Lounge and set down to scribble
a first draft.
Mid-November
Dawn
The time has
come,
I know, I know.
The soft
frosts that fade
at the first blush of light
are over.
The grass snaps now
with each step,
the cold seeps around
the buttons of my coat,
up my sleeves,
down my neck.
Of a sudden
the leaves,
just yesterday the glory
of the season,
are shed in heaps and drifts.
The bare arms that held them
Shiver in the dawn.
Long clouds
of starlings
swirl and trail across
the lowering sky,
crows clamor over
carrion earth.
The time has
come,
I know, I know.
But just
when the wail of grief
wells in my throat,
the keening for utter loss
that crowds my senses
and my soul—
a simple doe
ambles unconcerned
across the
scurrying road
into a remnant
patch of wood,
somewhere
just out of sight
the
half-maddened buck
thrashes in
the brambles.
The time has
come,
I know, I know.
My blood
quickens in the cold,
death falls away.
—Patrick Murfin
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I have copies of We Build Temples in the Heart still available and will send you or your loved ones a personally inscribed copy for the low, low price of $8. I’ll even pay the postage! They make great stocking stuffers for your literate friends. Or you can piss off your children by using it instead of a lump of coal—they will be just as disappointed and angry!
Message me privately on Facebook or e-mail pmurfin@sbcglobal.net and we can exchange postal
addresses so you can send me a check
and I can send you a book. Such a deal!
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