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Grayly, unfocused,

I left the highway for the graveyard

Of the summer corn;

Away from bizarre headlights dissecting

The wet twilight,

Into the sharp stubble where

A dank wind rattled the bones

Of harvest.

From the invisible grass

A mottled rabbit with drooping ears

Padded around the puddles

And disappeared again

Into the brittle spears,



A black barn swelled out of the fog;

In the thickening dark

A vague terror.

I walked


With joy

Into the fields.

I submerged with the dusk;

There I sat upon a wet rock

With the warm rabbits and the cold rain

Until my cold heart


And I wept.

Cynthia Buell Thomas

◄ Vanilla Sex

The Colour of Death Is Gold ►


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carol falaki

Mon 1st Mar 2010 16:48

This is a thoughtful poem. I guess it is about reconciling yourself with some negative aspect of life. Being alone in nature works.
Don't worry about the facebook thing Cynthia:)

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Fri 19th Feb 2010 16:35

Hope you won't consider thsi tit for tat Cynthia - I happened to be discussing this with my brother, who loved it, over lunch. I'd skipped over it initially thinking it was a nature poem (you know what I'm like). Having read it through I see there are greater depths. I like TC's interpretation. It could represent a number of things - the acceptance of age and mortality being quite major for all of us. I think often when you communes with nature, you realise just what a small cog you are - like the rabbit or the grain of sand. This can make you fearful - it can also make you joyous as you consider the magnicicent scale of things. I feel that double edged sword when I look at the stars. A very thoughtful piece. I like it.

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Nichola Burrows

Fri 19th Feb 2010 12:02

I like the darkness of this, the dampness, the allusions to the feeling of desolation. The word 'joy' is oddly juxtaposed Cynthia, however, with the word 'fearfully' it brings to mind more of a feeling of trepidation and excitement, more importantly freedom, at being able to slip away, to escape and submerge into the darkness. Very interesting use of the word, it works for me.xx

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Steve Regan

Fri 19th Feb 2010 10:26

Yes, like Ann, I was puzzled by the walking fearfully with joy bit ...

But overall, Cynthia, this poem evoked very well for me the following... mystery, human (and animal) vulnerability, escape from the world of man and artifice.

Plus, dusk, twilight, the gloaming etc are all my kinda stuff. Come to think, I'm also quite partial to sitting on damp rocks and crying.

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Graham Sherwood

Thu 18th Feb 2010 21:37

Having read this several times and the comments listed before this, I do have to agree a little with the confusion idea, although I would rather say lack of clarity is more important. I wouldn't have left the highway, I would have turned from the highway into etc etc. Headlights in the countryside shouldn't be bizarre? piercing works better etc.
There is no point in making any other recommendations as the writer knows what she wants to say. However unless one is trying to confuse, clearer descriptions are necessary.

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Ann Foxglove

Thu 18th Feb 2010 20:15

I have no problem with the invisible grass - I think the poem gives a good impression of misty wet twilight. I just wonder why you cried, also the juxtaposition of fear and joy puzzles me a little. But I like a puzzle!

<Deleted User> (7164)

Thu 18th Feb 2010 20:00

I read this three times before reading TC's comment because i didn't want it to influence my thoughts.
To be honest i'm a little confused.
The title suggests a communion with nature as it doesn't include 'holy'. I'm fine with that part and i love the images, particularly 'a black barn swelled out of the fog.'
However, invisible grass doesn't sit quite right. How would anyone know where the rabbit came from if it's invisible, or is this an intentional imagined image?
and is it possible for anyone to walk fearfully with joy?

Perhaps it's me who's missing something. I'd love you to explain further Cynthia. You got me interested in your thought patterns here because i really love the idea behind it and it is powerful. Of course these are only my own thoughts and as you know, i learn a lot from reading other peoples work so hope you don't mind this kind of feedback. :-)


<Deleted User> (7073)

Thu 18th Feb 2010 17:37

I wonder if this is about the passage life, eventually from youth to ripeness of age and then to harvest..... wet harvested fields always look sad, somehow bare denuded and used. As ever Cynthia powerful and full of mystery.TC X

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