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June Wind
I watched wind ripple the field's supple grasses.
For once earth is alive while restless ocean
Lies still beyond it like a flat blue screen.
I watch the wind burnishing as it passes,
Lifting soft waves, an ecstasy of motion,
A long glissando through the static green.
These waves crash on no rock; rooted, they stay,
As restless love, that ocean, changes over
And comes to land, alive, a shining field
Caught in wind's captivating gentle play
As though a harp played by a subtle lover --
And the tormented ocean has been stilled.
May Sarton
This one is sheer self-indulgence. There is something so gorgeous about a field of grasses swaying in the wind - it's one of my favourite things, and any poem about it gets my attention. Like Barley Bending by Sara Teasdale, is an excellent example, it's theme that of the grass's ability to bend without breaking. And Patrick Kavanagh's Consider the Grass Growing - which makes special note of the time of year and the joy in seasonal repetition, especially of the sensation of spring grass brushing one's ankles.
But May Sarton's poem is all about the motion. That line, "a long glissando through the static green." that's incredible - how does that work? Can one see a glissando? I saw it when I read it, even though a glissando is something you hear. A poet can do these kind of shifts, jump from one sense to the next in a seamless unfolding of pure expression - and what? Well, we see, we feel, we understand - with all the senses.
"For once earth is alive." And that's what gets to me, what I love about a field of grasses moving in the wind - it's as if the earth is breathing. Sarton compares it to an instrument being played - that's interesting, we can imagine fingers of the wind running octaves of motion over the field. Does that mean the ocean and land are part of an organic orchestra, each taking turns in a cosmic composition for the senses?
Looking through the lens of the poem, it would sure seem so.
