In Clover

A young Rachmaninoff revels in June clover

In mid June clover runs wild here through meadows and lawns, providing a wonderful feast for rabbits and groundhogs. Rock loved to nap in a bed of clover. This poem is for him:


Wilderness Lost
(for Bramble, my cat)


I
She was the wilderness in me
The secret solitary place
Where grow the healing herbs.
We had recognized each other
Years ago; the bond was deep.
Now since her death
Two seasons ago
The landscape is ghostly.
No small black and gold panther
Steals through the long grasses
And pounces on a mouse.
No one curls up on the terrace wall
Gathering the day together.
No round shadow sits on my sill
Late at night, waiting to be let in,
And then in one jump comes to lie beside me,
A long pillow of purrs along my back.


II
Distant, passionate one,
I miss you in my bones.
I miss you in my heartbeat.
I have mourned you for nine months.
What does not leave me
Is your great luminous eye
Open to its golden rim,
The darkness so dark, the deepness so deep there
I wanted to go with you to death
But in a few seconds
The needle did its good work.
You had gone–
And in a new time
I grow old without you.
It is all very still now,

The grief washed out


~ May Sarton