Apples and Frost

I have been thinking about Frost's poem After Apple Picking since Tuesday when I read it on Seattle poet T Clear's blog - as part of the Tuesday Poem - and watched Frost read it there (thanks to a crazy digital animator on youtube). It is unbelievably moving and an example of the sort of poetry I am currently smitten with - poetry that appears personal but really is a hand grabbing your throat ...

Such images here, such writing. The extract below, for example, has risen up before me unexpectedly throughout the day today ... that 'shimmer' in the sight ... the 's' and 'm' sounds that hum between lines...the poignancy of 'I am drowsing off' (the whole poem and a lovely photo of picked apples can be found at T Clear's blog).

I am done with apple-picking now.
Essence of winter sleep is on the night,
The scent of apples; I am drowsing off.
I cannot shake the shimmer from my sight
I got from looking through a pane of glass
I skimmed this morning from the water-trough,
And held against the world of hoary grass.



Some other wonderful poems that are 'shimmers' of nature can be found on Tuesday Poem this week - HERE and HERE.