Welcome to another Poetry Friday Poetry Peeps Adventure!
Poetry Peeps! You’re invited to our challenge for the month of September! Here’s the scoop: We’re wandering through Wallace Stevens’ “13 Different Ways of Looking…” at something. Maybe it’s not 13 ways – maybe it’s only seven. Maybe it’s not a blackbird or anything alive, but something inanimate. Whatever happens, your way of looking will be different than mine, and I’m here for it. Are you in? Good! You have a month to craft your creation and share it on September 27th in a post and/or on social media with the tag #PoetryPals.
My mother texted me the other morning, “Are you feeling Fall-ish?” It’s hard to miss the change this year. The “certain slant of light” seems to be more sharply tip-tilted. The cool of the morning is actually legitimately chilly – though it won’t last, of course. September traditionally burnishes the Western States sun-bronzed with a last heavy blast before the “mellow mists and fruitfulness” settles in by mid-October. Maybe because it’s supposed to be a La Niña year, the dry cold already feels closer. I’m certainly noticing my yard overrun with lesser goldfinches, eating every seed and berry that isn’t being stolen by the squirrels. Soon the weavers will be sheeting the trees with ginormous webs, scarfing down every last bite before it’s time for ballooning away the babies.
I used three snaps for my ekphrastic this month, as both Liz and I captured spider’s webs, which made me think of E.B. White, CHARLOTTE’S WEB, and the time of year of endings (Remember Robert Peck’s A Day No Pigs Would Die? Even there the slaughter is scheduled for autumn/early winter). I’ve been thinking about mythology and the Weavers who, in Greek and Roman myth, wove a person’s fate. From the Encyclopedia Britannica:
The poet Hesiod (8th century bc) personified them as three very old women who spun the threads of human destiny. Their names were Clotho (Spinner), Lachesis (Allotter), and Atropos (Inflexible). Clotho spun the “thread” of human fate, Lachesis dispensed it, and Atropos cut the thread (thus determining the individual’s moment of death). The Romans identified the Parcae, originally personifications of childbirth, with the three Greek Fates. The Roman goddesses were named Nona, Decuma, and Morta.
In this slightly reflective, melancholic frame of mind, my poem spun itself out of spider webs, touching point to point across a path, anchored invisibly to catch the ephemera of memory.
Of course, not every ekphrastic this month dealt with intangibles. Liz’s poem is here. Tricia’s poem is here. Cousin Mary Lee’s poem is here. Michelle K’s poem is here. Though she may not have realized that she was joining our challenge, Rose has two blue chairs, and the Rain City Librarian had her class do ekphrastic haiku this week! Cool! Denise’s poignant meditation is here. Linda B’s seasonal moment is here. Carol used a watercolor for her ekphrastic imagery. You might give Susan @ Chicken Spaghetti a cookie, since today she is rounding us up with a wealth of poetry. Thanks, Susan! Yet more Poetry Peeps may drift in from their own particular webs, so be sure and pop back for the full roundup later this weekend.
I also found a delightful poem about walking through a spiderweb that you may enjoy. (It’s definitely more enjoyable to read about this than to actually… do it…)
And perhaps Nikita Gill should have the last word today – a last brief reminder of the ephemeral nature of spider’s webs, seasons, and moods, in all the best ways:
Happy last gasp of August.
Tanita, I am sorry that I am so late to reply. Thanks for adding my name to the #PoetryPals challenge in August. You are the magic weaver of dynamic poem that blends mythology with nature for an imaginative poem with such descriptive lines: “the silken skein of/days draws out its/final filaments” and “lips licked to lap the last”. Oh my, the alliteration is a true wordweaving thought. I am already thinking about next week’s challenge.
@cvarsalona: As always, I’m happy to have your words and your thoughts in our poetry circle! Looking forward to our projects next week! (I don’t know what I’m doing yet either…)
“the silken skein of
days draws out its
final filaments”
Gorgeous!
And thanks for the encouragement from Nikita Gill too. 🙂
“summer’s dizzy draft” — this is such a FELT poem, Tanita — I adore it!
@Liz Garton Scanlon: In this liminal time of year, the season’s change press so close – I feel like I’m drinking in the cooling air like water. I’m all a bundle of feeling, and I love it. ☺
Gah– Tanita, “the silken skein of days…” “summer’s dizzy draft…” I shouldn’t even try to call out a favorite line. The whole thing is gorgeous. I will sit in my picture window this week before dawn and immerse myself in these last days, lapping the last!
And I am GIGGLING over what the neighbors are seeing … walking thru the spider web. I had my own moment this week!
@pjnunz: I live in horror on morning walks – probably everyone on my route is snickering as I dance and flail… Ah, well… we only have spiders wafting across the trail for a limited time, I guess…
Yes, those ‘lips licked to lap the last”, ubiquitous these days, though as you mention, the heat is back. We never know when it will be gone. So far, I’m not seeing the trees fading as I usually do, probably too early! I enjoyed reading about the goddesses, Tanita, and that connection to weaving. I see the webs everywhere, and love the “silken skein of days”. I will remember as I see the work all over my garden and my neighborhood! Happy Weekend!
@LindaB: Much to my amusement/horror, the temperature jumped TWENTY-THREE degrees today. That heat is DEFINITELY back. And yet, I’m going to try and appreciate that it’s not lasting all night, at least, but giving way to the inevitable push for a cool, dark night – wrapping us in cool silken skeins, proving that the sun no longer quite holds sway as it did… I’m grateful. I’m not seeing the trees prematurely redden up, either, so there’s hope, perhaps, for a slower descent into true autumn. Hope springs eternal!
“the silken skein of days” how perfectly attaches itself to a web and weaves such an incredible image! And you wove many wonderful sounds, all slowing us down with summer’s end. it and your webs and graphics too, thanks Tanita!
@Michelle K: I’m always so glad when you stop by – your artist’s eye is a bit of external validation of what I’m trying to do. Thank YOU.
Oh, I love your poem! Those final filaments. And that poem by Nikita Gill–made me tear up. Wow! Thanks for sharing.
@Marie Flinchum Atkins: Yay! I’m so glad this poetry was a gift to you.
Tanita, I love your writing. I’m feeling poignant after reading this post today. I’m licking my lips enjoying the last days of summer. Thank you for the reminder.
@Denise Krebs: So much of my poetry lately is a reminder to be mindful and grateful – I’m glad that you, too, can feel the call to gratitude. ♥
Oh, the final days of summer! The sounds and rhythms in your poem are a gift.
@rosecappelli: Well, I offer this gift to you, wrapped in misty-pearled spider webs and bearing the last breath of a gloriously blue day. Glad you enjoyed!
As a lover of fall, everything about losing summer appeals to me, which is why this poem is so darn perfect. “Summer’s dizzy draft” and “lips licked to the last” are such fun to read. I’m with Mary Lee, the alliteration is delicious!
@Miss Rumphius: I, too, LOVE fall in the most basic, heart-filled, clichéd collect-leaves-and-throw-decorative-gourds-everywhere style. I have been saving up my best tights to wear, and I. Cannot. Wait. And yet, I’m trying REALLY hard to appreciate where we are now, and be mindful that we only get one summer of 2024, and to love where I am now.
As always, a work in progress…
Mmm…as delicious to read aloud as it is to lick the last bit of summer’s goodness off the finger that cleaned the plate. Your alliteration works brilliantly, and “the silken skein of / days” is particularly lovely.
@Cousin MaryLee: I am so arachnophobic that I’ve been working steadily on appreciating all things spider, and this is another way. Spider webs are AMAZING – and I love the idea of silken skeins, and that we share a love of fiber arts, each in our own way. Here’s to licking up summer’s last goodness before the cold (it’s going to be a cold one this year, I feel)…