“Sweet How the Rosemary Dies” – poem by Christopher Goudreau


During that July heatwave a few weeks ago, the classical music show on public radio here in the Valley played Christmas music. Well, the temperature’s supposed to hit 96 degrees today. So here’s a poem Chris wrote…

Sweet how the rosemary dies

Through this vision of grace but blind

Where the beds once burned with coronate gold

Have faded to rust, the arsenic has told


The faces hung from nails of silver

As if tranquil and forgotten rivers

Where the sleep reaps but a noble wish

Leaving behind all of but a breath of mist


Now the rested is weary, of dreamers too

And the glass vase shattered before

Give me rosemary under a tightened bow

Until it whitens kept in its snow


(Note: The photo is from www.tinyfarmblog.com – an interesting looking site about small farming – Ed.) 


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