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Old 06-19-2017, 06:56 PM
Kyle Norwood Kyle Norwood is offline
Join Date: Jan 2015
Location: Los Angeles, California
Posts: 286

I agree that Larkin was right not to publish more than he did; but a few times he missed a poem like this untitled one. ("Long Last" is another fine one, Aaron.)

An April Sunday brings the snow,
Making the blossoms on the plum trees green,
Not white. An hour or two, and it will go.
Strange that I spend that hour moving between

Cupboard and cupboard, shifting the store
Of jam you made of fruit from these same trees:
Five loads--a hundred pounds or more--
More than enough for all next summer's teas,

Which now you will not sit and eat.
Behind the glass, under the cellophane,
Remains your final summer--sweet
And meaningless, and not to come again.

Last edited by Kyle Norwood; 06-19-2017 at 06:59 PM.
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