“A Summer’s Field in Winter”

On By Mike U.In Poetry

“A Summer’s Field in Winter”
(c) 2022 by Michael L. Utley

let us sift through summer’s solemn ashes
let us scavenge rusted hopes from twisted
hulks of yesterdays amid the swelter
and the din of frigid silence
as crows circle

this broad swath the acreage of sorrow
garden of the gods whose feckless mewling
echoes ‘cross the eons and the seasons
crumble into dust as autumn
gives up her ghost

we were never long for this cold world, this
dispensation of abominations
sunset fell before the flax had faded
bleeding out beneath indiff’rent
constellations

paradise, oh paradise eternal
dashed upon the stones of human hubris
we the stewards dined on milk and honey
as our world descended into
oblivion

thus the world was burned and we burned with it
rendered lurking shadows in the gloaming
flesh and bone have failed us as the season
of regrets approaches; we have
earned winter’s wrath

in our dreams we’ll gather wild flowers
fetch the wicker basket for the poppies
crowns of woven larkspur shall adorn us
we will rest among oak shadows
in the clearing

and when we awaken from our slumber
and when we espy the desolation
let us sift through summer’s solemn ashes
in the winter’s frigid silence
as crows circle

(Author’s Note: This poem was originally published in Chewers & Masticadores in January 2023.)

31 thoughts on ““A Summer’s Field in Winter””

    1. Thanks so much, Darlene. Yes, it feels as though we’ve been asleep at the wheel for much too long, doesn’t it? Climate change, war, human rights violations, the threat of authoritarianism, the breakdown of civilization and civility…and we seem content to watch everything burn. I hope it’s not too late for us. I appreciate your stopping by and commenting. 🙂

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    1. I was thinking about this earlier today while deciding whether to publish this poem today or wait until tomorrow. The staggering violence and unimaginable destruction of 9/11 will be forever etched into our national psyche, and in a small way, this poem’s reference to world destruction does sort of seem appropriate on the anniversary of such an infamous and tragic event. We always thought we were invulnerable, that no one could touch us. We were proven wrong on that day twenty-two years ago. I read your post today about 9/11 and it brought back the horror of that morning. We must always remember so that it will never happen again. Thanks as always for your kind and thoughtful comments. I really appreciate them (and you). 🙂

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    1. Thanks, Michele. I appreciate your kind appraisal of this poem. Something about those crows circling just really stands out to me with regards to the subject matter in this piece. I’m glad to know you enjoyed this one, my friend. 🙂

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  8. A beautifully written poem, Mike, with such a sad message. I couldn’t help but think of 9/11 but also of our most recent human catastrophe – climate change. What struck me most was the sense of dismay you evoke in the feckless souls as they survey the results of their choices. The human race brings destruction on itself and then wonders what happened, swallowed up in despair and outrage. Some of us will survive, but will we learn?

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    1. Thanks for your always thoughtful comments, Diana. Honestly, I don’t think we’ll ever learn. We’ve had so long to change our ways, yet we continue on the same path of destruction. We have a death wish, apparently. The planet will recover, but perhaps it’s best that we as a species don’t. I realize that’s a dark appraisal of humanity, but hope seems to be in short supply right about now, you know? I always appreciate your visits and your support, my friend. I’m glad you’re here on WP. 🙂

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    1. Thanks a bunch, Peggy. I always enjoy your kind and thoughtful comments. “Can we change?” you ask. Goodness, I hope we can, before we ruin this one world of ours. We’ve only ourselves to blame for what we’ve wrought here, after all is said and done. Many thanks for stopping by. Much appreciated. 🙂

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  12. Oh, this is an utterly sublime poem! The imagery is gorgeous and powerful! These lines, especially, exude solemn beauty, “in our dreams we’ll gather wild flowers
    fetch the wicker basket for the poppies
    crowns of woven larkspur shall adorn us
    we will rest among oak shadows
    in the clearing”

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    1. Thanks, Aaysid. I’m happy to know you liked this poem. Ah, yes, the “dream sequence.” 🙂 I wanted to describe mankind’s denial of reality, how we tend to close our eyes and feign sleep (or play dead) to avoid action and accountability, but when we finally awaken, all those wild flowers we dreamed of have turned to ashes and there’ nothing left but that cold north wind and those crows…ever circling…

      As always, many thanks for your support and kindness. It means a lot to me and I appreciate it. 🙂

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