Year’s End

When we first moved into our current apartment–a quirky, wall-papered corner of an old Victorian house–my husband and I attempted to make a portion of our kitchen wall (a crumbling, inexplicably varnished cork board) more appealing by covering it with a selection of poems taken from old anthologies. The overall effect pleases me: a little literary shrine of sorts. Some seventy or so poems are thus scattered above our breakfast table, and, though they don’t attract my attention every day, I sometimes find my tea grows cold as I sit transfixed by Frost or Eliot early in the morning.

Today my eyes fell on a poem by Richard Wilbur, one that I’ve never read attentively before. It’s called Year’s End. It’s certainly appropriate to the season. I won’t copy the entire text out here, but the last stanza struck me as particularly fitting. He writes,

These sudden ends of time must give us pause.
We fray into the future, rarely wrought
Save in the tapestries of afterthought.
More time, more time. Barrages of applause
Come muffled from a buried radio.
The New-year bells are wrangling with the snow.
I hope that this blog will be a place to pause often this year. More time, more time, indeed.
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Filed under Poetry, Reading

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