SF (February,4,1937 / W. Columbia, WV, USA)

Before The Frost

Frail woodsmoke smells as fragrant as the dusk,
A West Virginia red bird for your thoughts.
Our shadows stretch as far as Salem church,
The place where poetry first came to me.

Two miles away in West Columbia,
A train whistles its version of the blues.
The landscape fades in tune with loneliness.
Such sweet sadness is not replacable.

It is the last day for the goldenrod.
Old eyes record the fall of mellow light.
Frost is only a windowpane away.
You close my fingers on a sunset leaf.

Copyright,2008, Sandra Fowler

User Rating: 5,0 / 5 ( 19 votes ) 27

Comments (27)

I will never forget the red cardinals on my windowpane in Morgantown.... Thanks for the poem, Sandra.
Sandra....i'm looking at the scads of comments, all of which very accurately depict this piece as another work of imagical grace...And, so, what more could i say, that had not already been said...Then i read the piece again...and it then struck me...This poem subtlely, yet markingly touches on each and one of all five senses(touch, scent, sight, sound, and taste(you magically create a sense of taste through your vivid detail of scent) ....and of course, there was a sixth sense...that always shines through like a lighthouse beacon...your 6th sense for poetic prowess! Excellent Work, Young Lady! *F*j*R*
This is a beautiful piece. Although the emotion isn't in-your-face, or blatant, the emotive subtext combined with the imagery is wonderful. I particularly liked 'A train whistles its version of the blues'. Beautiful line. This is my first reading of your work but I'm very impressed and shall read on. Well done on a great poem.
A beautiful and sweet poem entwined with nostalgia and sadness. Only you can write such a mild and mellow poem, Sandra. Best Regards.
i am yet to watch frost but i felt is really while reading you...
See More